Rosy Hours Redux
by Xix Crane
Summary: Nadir Khan is sent by his king, the shah of Persia, to find a certain musician to bring back to Persia for the court's amusement. Nadir finds out this is no mere musician - and his entire life is promptly consumed and changed by this seemingly simple request. (This story is backstory for a larger fic that will eventually be published.)
1. Gifted

"We've been here two days and haven't seen anything. I can't see why we should remain among these barbarians any longer."

"And come back to Tehran empty handed?" Nadir snapped at his man, Darius. "Better we die in this muddy hellhole of humanity."

The travel from Persia to the Nijni-Novgorod fair had taken its toll on Nadir, his servant Darius, and their small regiment. Traveling light did them no favors either; the crushing crowd made even their tiny retinue feel claustrophobic.

"If only our Russian was better...we shouldn't have relied on that drunken trader's description. Forgive me for saying this, but I'm afraid we've been sent on a wild goose chase and I'm not sure for what purpose…" Nadir mopped his brow, grateful he could speak plainly with his trusted assistant. To insinuate the shah had miscalculated in any way was an act of treason and there was always someone in the Persian court ready to draw blood to get even an inch ahead of someone else.

"The music from heaven...a face from hell…" Darius repeated the trader's description to himself as he made them both a fresh cup of tea.

"Tomorrow is the last day," Nadir said, taking a strong, quick gulp of the scalding liquid. "If our only option after that is returning to the palace without this so-called marvel for the king, perhaps we would be better off letting a cut-throat from one of the alleys end us while stealing our purses."

Darius gave a grim chuckle.

"...One more day. And then…" Nadir glanced at Darius. He nodded in understanding and both men drank the rest of their tea in silence, dreading a journey back home without producing the main character in a wanderer's insane story.

Nadir gave a quick thanks to Allah for the crowds thinning out on the last day of the fair. They rambled from tent to cart to event to performance but still found nothing matching the description. He was grateful that Darius kept close watch on him, acted as his protector in the unscrupulous tumult allowing Nadir to focus on his task.

"There - do you hear it?" Nadir's head snapped up.

"In this din? What?"

"Music…" Nadir could hardly pluck the faint song from the air among all the noise but it was there. Of course, there was music all around, but this was different. Just as described, it was as if a virtuoso was playing a violin. "Perhaps our luck has changed! This way!"

Nadir pulled Darius through the crowd, chasing the elusive notes among the crush and the cacophony. Just as he was certain he found the source, it ceased abruptly. A wave of panic washed over him and he turned round and round on the spot, trying to relocate it but it was over.

"There - " Darius tapped him on the shoulder and pointed towards a traveler's caravan. A crowd of people were leaving a tented area, distraught expressions of terror etched on their faces. One woman had fainted off to the side and was being revived by a weeping girl. A banner written in French stretched across the top - "The Music of Heaven, the Face of Hell". It was exactly as the traveler had promised! For the first time since he had set out on this ridiculous quest, Nadir felt that success was in his grasp. His heart leapt to his throat as he dashed through the canvas flaps of the tent.

Inside, a few rows of benches faced a curtained area. Whatever was on the stage was cloaked with heavy canvas and drapes.

"Hello?" Nadir called out in the empty tent. In his hurry he didn't look where he was going and stepped in a pile of someone's vomit, slipping backwards, almost losing his footing. Darius steadied him as Nadir called once more under his breath for allah to curse this land.

A man whipped a flap open from the side of the tent, his two beady black eyes peering out from an unwashed face. He said something in Russian, then, realizing they didn't understand, cycled through a few more phrases before settling on French. As that was the one language Nadir understood best outside of his native tongue, he was pleased this stranger spoke it.

"The last day's performance is over. You'll have to wait for next year," the man said.

"That's - that's unacceptable! I have been sent here to speak to a musician, the musician who performs here."

"Musician?" The man gave a bark of a laugh, tossing his dark hair back. "What were you told?"

"There was a musician...a musician with a, err, peculiar deformity…"

"Well, that's half right." The man leaned back, sizing Nadir and Darius up, wondering if they were worth his time.

"There is an event in Persia…"

"Persia!" The man spit on the ground. "Might as well go 'round the world. Not interested."

"Would it interest you to know the shah himself has requested this musician?"

"The shah?" Another full-throated laugh, an eyetooth glinting gold in the darkness of his mouth. Darius produced a royal insignia to verify their claim. The man's laugh died away but a smirk still played on his lips.

"The musician and his retinue will be compensated for making the journey. If the musician is offered court residency, well…" Nadir let the thought of a palace salary dance in his mind. The man scratched at the scraggly stubble on his chin, considering the offer.

"Maybe you should meet your fabled musician first."

"Thank you, that would be ideal." Nadir was eager to finish this mission and return home; he would bring back the performer come Hell or high water.

The man held open the flap to admit them to the backstage area. Nadir passed through and saw that the object that was draped on the other side with canvas and curtains was, in fact, a cage. The floor was covered with straw, like an animal's cage, but in one corner were untouched bowls of gruel and water and in the other, a beaten chamber pot. A heavy chain ran through the center of the bars, nailed into the dirt outside of the cage. In the center of the cage, a small, figure lay still. Was it an animal…? Nadir approached the bars, squinting through his pince-nez, trying to determine the shape.

"- - is that a child?!" he gasped.

The man lay a hand on his shoulder and drew him back. "Don't be fooled - and don't get too close to it. That's no child; it's a monster."

The thing in the cage stared at Nadir with flat, unblinking eyes.

The man called out behind him and another man appeared. Nadir continued to stare at the shape in the shadows as the two spoke. Presently, the other left once more.

"You intrigue me; we'll have it give you a performance and then you'll tell me if you think the shah would still be interested." He rattled the chain, jerking the thing in the cage across the floor of the cage and sending a spray of hay through the bars. "Hear that? You get to play once more."

The creature's eyes now lit up as it scrambled to its feet. Nadir could now see that yes, it must be a child. Judging by the small frame, he surmised the boy to be about seven, perhaps eight. Perhaps he could be even older considering how emaciated he seemed; his shabby clothes hung loose on his frail body. The boy's face was just as described, that is to say, he must have a severe deformity because his entire head was covered in sackcloth with just two holes cut for his bright, almost glowing eyes. In addition to the chain he wore around his neck, he was manacled at both the hands and ankles. Nadir wanted to cry out, to rip the chains from this child, but he kept silent. There was a time to rail against injustice and cruelty, but with these unstable foreigners in a strange land, he held his tongue.

The other man came forward with a violin and both men brought out lashes from their belts, their eyes fixated on the child.

"You know the drill," the first man said, slapping his cat o' nine tails on his thigh. The child hurried to the back corner of his cage, hands clenched, eyes caught on the instrument. The second man slid the violin through the bars, leaving it close to the lip of the cage. The moment he retreated, the child darted forward, gently caressing the violin like a sacred treasure. The man nodded towards Nadir, as if to say watch this.

The child straightened, assuming a completely upright posture and tucked the instrument beneath his chin with reverence. He moved the bunched cloth of its crude mask out of the way to get better purchase, caressed the bridge of the violin with his fingers, and touched the bow to the strings. What followed next made both Nadir and Darius gasp. An unearthly song, a sound unlike any other, enveloped them, moved them so deeply, reached a place within themselves to tease out sorrow and joy in equal measures. It felt as if the recesses of their hearts were being mined for sound, emotions were being unearthed and spun into a sweet, strange song. The moment it ended, Nadir felt as if he had been suspended then released, dropped back to the earth.

"My god…" he whispered, blinking away tears that would not fall.

"Yes," the man smiled wryly. "Each song is different. Sometimes it plays on the same themes, but it's always like this. Anyways, the show isn't over." Rattling the chain around the boy's neck, he snapped, "Finish it, you curr!"

The boy's eyes momentarily passed over Nadir, the light fading fast from them. Mechanically, he took a deep bow. As he came up, he stripped the rough cloth covering from his head unveiling a truly repulsive visage.

"My god!" The words seemed to leap straight from Nadir's gut. Darius made a sound as if he was trying to suppress a retch and turned away from the sight. What they saw could hardly be described as a face, it was so deformed. Lips terribly twisted, a mottled black socket on one eye, skin turned and red and tangled and purple on the right side. A dark shock of hair fell over the better side of the boy's face. On the other side, a huge bald spot revealed withered skin in a ring around a piece of exposed skull.

Nadir's heart sank; he now knew why the shah sent him chasing after this child so urgently. The shah was a capricious man, easily bored and prone to searching for extreme experiences. Being the shah came with many perks but it could be like living in a gilded cage as well; he couldn't walk among the people as anyone else so any and all pleasures and entertainment had to be brought to him. With an expanse of leisure time before him, his demand for novelties never ended.

Worse than the shah was his spoiled and endlessly cosseted eldest daughter. The shah had more than a few wives and several concubines. They had borne him children as was their duty. But his firstborn daughter had been the light of his life, a creature who could do no wrong, and he indulged her increasingly wild demands. Nothing was ever enough for her - and where the shah liked extravagance and oddities, she enjoyed violence, cruelty, and the macabre. She was no more than 11 and ruled the palace like an insatiable terror.

This child was exactly the sort of gruesome thing she would adore.

"Come forward so our guests can get a good look." The man jerked the chain, banging the boy's face against the bars. He didn't make a sound, evidently inured to this sort of rough treatment. Nadir leaned forward, peering into the boy's eyes. Perhaps he was a savant, the sort of person that didn't know anything more than the one thing they were fixated on. That sort of thing would help him survive the cruel world that surely awaited him within the walls of the Mazenderan palace. He would perhaps be unaware in a way of whatever was to be inflicted on him…

"Does he speak?"

"Speak? Yes. It used to be mute, just lay there like a little corpse. One day it got - er, sick. Wouldn't move. We thought it was done for. The next day, it's up and awake as if nothing ever happened. Spoke for the first time, very proper French. Asked for the fiddle, said he knew a way to make even more money for us. We didn't know it could even speak, let alone play an instrument. There used to be a famous fiddler that passed through these fairs; maybe that's where the little beast picked up the notion. Since it wouldn't stop begging for the damn thing we finally got it one and that's when this little routine started. It was right; we made more money with this whole musical act…"

Perhaps the boy wasn't altogether a fool. Nadir swallowed down a lump in his throat and leaned in, looking up at the child's curious golden eyes.

"Don't get too close. It's got the devil's face as well as the devil's quick hands." The man once more pulled Nadir back from the bars. "The damned thing loves to pick pockets. Check yours to see if it's got something…"

Nadir didn't need to check; the boy's expression said everything. Guilt, then anger, then childish bitterness came across that hideous face. The man started screaming at him, raining insults on the child. The second man rushed forward, whip at the ready. The boy cowered, lip curled in a snarl yet his body was flattened to the floor, prepared to suffer the abuse that was fast coming. With the second man at the door, eyes locked to the child, the first turned a key in the cage door and opened it. Wrapping the lashes in his fist, he used the handle of the whip to thump the child mercilessly across the back.

"Turn out your pockets, you disgusting wretch!" The man grabbed the child by the back of his tattered shirt and shook him hard. He turned out his pockets and the man reached down and quickly snatched an object from man hurriedly took up the violin and the bow - a move that elicited an animal cry of rage Nadir could scarcely believe came from such a small creature - and backed out from the cage quickly. They slammed the door and locked it once more. The child's gaze followed them, eyes blazing.

The man wiped the sweat from his grimy brow with the back of one hand and held out the other. "Is this yours?"

In his fat, filthy palm sat Nadir's pocket watch. It wasn't exactly a sentimental object, and surely not the nicest thing he owned, but it was a pretty enough piece. The main feature was the elegant enamel backing depicting the shah's palace backlit by a hazy purple sunset, the moon and stars just starting to peek above the minarets. No doubt a priceless treasure to a child that had nothing, not even a toy. He took it back, turning it around a few times before tucking it away in his jacket.

"So…" the man asked, "would the shah be willing to pay well for our act? I assure you, there's nothing else like him…"

Nadir felt bound by duty to bring the child back to the palace. If he came back empty-handed, he would fall from favor fast and he was already in a perilous position at court. But there was no doubt that if the shah - or worse, his brazen daughter - wanted to keep this boy, he would be sentencing the child to an unforeseen but no doubt grim and tragic life. Would it be worse than what he was suffering right now...? There was something there within him, a spark Nadir could sense. Perhaps he could inspire the shah to give him a little education, a means to escape a life of mindless servitude...

Nadir swallowed down another lump. "Perhaps we should discuss this opportunity…"

The man clapped Nadir on the back. "Let's have some tea and talk about your proposal."

Nadir would reflect back often on this moment over the coming years, think back on the agreement he had made that sealed the fate of someone Nadir would always consider a genius and eventually a friend. Was it better that he went from a cage of crude bars and filthy hay to one of gold and silk? To cleanse his body but corrupt his soul? To go from the familiar sting of a whip across his skin to the endless unknown cruelties the princess would practice upon his heart and mind?


	2. A Civil Conversation

The trek back to Persia felt like an eternity. The small caravan slowed things considerably and Nadir felt like at any moment he would simply go mad and scream with frustration. He found himself often staring at the limp figure that lay on the floor of the cage, hour after hour, blank faced and mute.

Raito, the main keeper, sidled up to Nadir one tedious afternoon and said, "You wonder why it's bound and chained, why we keep it locked up like that? Even why we say 'it' instead of 'he'? Well, let me tell you friend - there used to be three of us."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm saying it has killed."

Nadir had to laugh at this absurdity.

"It's true. It's powerful, much more powerful than you think. You've got to keep it hungry so it doesn't get too strong, so you can't feed it much. Always work in twos; if it gets you alone it'll go after you. And it doesn't hurt to give it a solid thrashing so it knows his place - which it mostly does."

Nadir held his tongue, unsure of what to say.

His disgust and confusion was evident on his face, because the man continued, "I can see you don't want to believe it, you're moved to compassion. I'm telling you, that will be your end. I told you it killed one of our crew; it's also killed a priest."

"A priest?"

"Yes, one of those Catholics. Supposedly taught it how to speak, how to read. Then one day it turned, snapped his neck."

Nadir scoffed again. Raito shook his head with a faint chuckle and they kept moving on.

On the edge of a bleak little town, a group of fellow travelers greeted Raito and his compatriot, Sylvester. The men led them to a traveler encampment near the woods and Nadir had to admit, it was nice to have varied company. Perhaps it would be alright to rest here for a night…

Of course, as Persians, Nadir and Darius drew attention, but not the same attention like their cargo. Within minutes of putting down stakes, a gaggle of children were crowded around the cage, many of them probably the exact same age that the child was. They pulled up the canvas cover, shouting and poking sticks through the bars. Inside, the boy lay still, suffering their abuse without stirring. Sylvester eventually sent them away and they ran from the cage, shrieking with terror, delight, mischief.

Over a dinner of fresh rabbit, spit-roasted, Nadir and Darius made decent conversation with those around them, working through each other's limited French. Across the fire, Raito leaned close to a couple, listening as they spoke animatedly and motioned towards the cage. An older woman interrupted them, also gesturing in the same direction. Raito nodded and called Sylvester over. The violin came out and the boy inside the cage scampered to retrieve it, the only thing that seemed to animate him. Soon, a beautiful, entrancing music filled the air, and all of the faces that turned to him with revulsion before now looked upon him with silent wonder. Nadir once again considered the part he was playing in this child's journey and how this all would end. With these thoughts, he retired to his tent, the ceaseless music following at his heels.

At some point the playing stopped and there was only the music of crickets in the fields and wind throughout the trees. After an hour or so of staring at the bare walls of his humble tent, Nadir finally gave up his fruitless pursuit of sleep and rose to make himself some tea.

Suddenly, on the other side of the tent flap, there was a commotion - clanking and clacking as if a house was being erected on the spot. Poking his head outside, he saw Sylvester and Raito wrapping the child in chains, more manacles and locks hanging off of his frail-looking arms and legs. Chains wound all around the wheeled cage, staked to the ground.

"What's going on?"

"We got a hot tip about an interesting opportunity. We've got to leave this one on its own for a moment but don't worry - there are others around if you get into trouble and of course, there are the chains."

Nadir polished his pince-nez with a corner of his shirt. "...Isn't that excessive?"

Raito shook his head dismissively. "You won't believe us until it's at your throat. Just leave it, you fool. We'll be back within half an hour. Get some rest."

Feeling uneasy at the sight of a small child being bound so cruelly but unable to do anything about it, he went back to his tent and his tea.

Reclining on the cushions, he must've felt comfortable enough to doze off because he awoke after a time from a dreamy half-sleep. There was something - someone - in the tent, too small to be Darius, staring down at him with eyes that shone in the dark like a cat's.

Certain a sudden movement would startle him, Nadir, not knowing what else to do, said, "Ah, welcome - I was about to pour more tea!"

The child froze, staring as Nadir groggily got up and fumbled for his half-empty teapot in the dark. He stumbled through the basics of preparing another pot, sweat beading on his forehead, half wondering if the child truly was wild enough to attack him or if he was simply curious. Nadir was quite curious himself and didn't want to waste this chance. The child, poised to bolt through the opening, slowly, cautiously crept closer.

"Make yourself comfortable" Nadir gestured towards the pillows across from him, his heart hammering in his chest.

The boy nodded, then spoke in a crystal-clear voice, "I can see you are frightened of me...I won't be long."

"Frightened? You seem a bit scared yourself…" Just as the pot started boiling, the boy knelt on a pillow across from Nadir, his eyes like two stars in the gloom. He remained tense, set to run. Nadir haltingly looked up, finally meeting his unblinking gaze. "I'm glad you came by for a, err, chat…"

"You mean you wonder how I got out. It is a trick I do and if you tell them I got out, they will beat me and bind me and I will have to find another trick - but I shall find it." The boy spoke in flawless, polite French with an air of tremulous, put-on bravery. Nadir had the sensation he was hosting a strange little diplomat from a curious foreign country.

"That's very clever of you. I wouldn't tell them, though. That's rather rough business…" Nadir steadied his shaking hand as he poured two cups of tea. "You don't have to wear that around me, you know."

The boy didn't remove his bulky mask nor did he accept the tea, simply kneeled quietly, watching Nadir.

Nadir placed the cup in front of him and said, "I have just the thing for us - don't tell Darius but - " he dug through one of his leather satchels "- I've selfishly hidden away some treats. Here we are…" He placed a few slices of Turkish delight on a napkin and lay it between them. The boy looked down at the jewel-like candies, his hands clenching on his knees with desire, yet he made no move to take one.

"Do you have a name…?"

The boy's head snapped up. "No. And I have no use for one. Whatever I would be named, they would call me other things anyways."

"Do you know how old you are?"

"No."

"Where are you from?"

"They say I am from France but I have as much use for a country as a name."

"And your parents...your mother…?"

"I think I had a mother once...There was a woman that I remember, she was the first person who sold me."

Nadir's heart dropped within him. What kind of mother would do such a thing?

He continued, "You are very well-spoken. Did you go to school…?"

The boy shook his head. "There was a priest who traveled with the carnival I was a part of for a while. He taught me how to speak...and read."

"A priest…"

The boy's muscles tensed up, his shoulders creeping up around his ears. "You have heard I killed him. Well, I did. He couldn't answer me correctly."

"Answer you?"

"Well - !" The child dug his fingers into the knees of his threadbare pants. "He couldn't say! He couldn't say why, if I was a human being like anyone else, I was in a cage! I thought I was an animal, you see; the other animals lived in cages like me! He was the one who decided to teach me to speak and to read! Why? _Why?!_ I could've been a dumb animal, not knowing how to speak, not knowing what people say about me...He insisted I was a human and yet couldn't answer why I belonged in a cage! He had the audacity to show me - a mirror! And I saw - -!" The boy looked down, his hands twisting the fabric of his clothes. "Well - it was a bad lookout for him! I rather lost my temper…"

Nadir sat in silence, watching as the boy wrestled with both anger and regret.

With a sneer in his voice, he said, "He taught me all about God, too, and forgiveness and absolution of the soul." The boy looked up again. "There's not much there for me."

Nadir spooned a bit of sugar into his tea, collecting his thoughts. "Those men said you killed another…"

"Yes."

"...and that was…?"

"He tried to touch me in a way I didn't appreciate. I didn't quite lose my temper then; I thought about it and made a decision." He added with a bitterness beyond his years, "It was worth the beating. They won't kill me; I make them too much money."

"Why don't you kill both of them? If you could so easily do it…"

"One day when I'm stronger…" There was a harsh edge to his words. "...I will kill them both and take their money - all of the money that I've rightfully earned! - and — and buy a bigger cage!"

"A bigger cage?" Nadir blurted. "But you would be free then!"

"The cage is to keep the others out!" The boy gave a mirthless laugh as if Nadir couldn't possibly be more stupid. How strange, how sad, Nadir felt; an innocent twisted through and through.

He continued, scratching at the rough cloth mask, "Perhaps I could have a very high tower where no one could climb, or a home deep underground where no one would go...with a maze so people would get lost...very dark so they can't see…"

The boy seemed to drift in his thoughts and grew quiet. Nadir still had difficulty picturing the frail, almost skeletal child before him committing a murder. Perhaps this was another game, another part of the act. But if it was true...and if the shah - or worse, the little princess - discovered he had a talent for drawing blood, no doubt they would yield performances from him beyond the violin.

After a few more moments of silence, Nadir continued. "Where did you learn to play? You are a wonderful musician."

"Oh, I had to learn by myself, but it wasn't hard. After I had killed the other one, they hurt me quite badly in retaliation. We were at a big fair and they were doubly cross with me then; I was too sick to be on exhibit. That was really a problem of their own making! Anyways, I heard beautiful music being made on this instrument, and the music revived me, so I asked for one. It took a lot of insisting unfortunately; they're quite stupid. Obviously the act has improved now that I have my violin...and I get what I want, too. At least now I'm more valuable to them, so they take care of me a bit better, and I get to play my music."

"Ah…" Nadir took a long sip from his tea. After a moment, he motioned to the candies between them. "Don't you want some of this? The tea's a bit strong; helps to make it a bit sweeter. Go on - take some."

"I don't want any," he said coldly. It was a bald faced lie but Nadir let it go, not wanting to press the matter further. The intense denial of even a shred of happiness must've had its roots in years of terror and cruelty. Why reach for something only to be punished for wanting? Nadir wondered if he could ever untangle the boy's mind or if he should even bother; he himself would no doubt be punished for wanting something better for this young soul.

"Ah - how about this?" Nadir brought out his pocket watch. "Would you like it?"

Now the child's eyes blazed with longing. His hands almost made a move to reach for it but he pushed them down, tucking them under his knees.

"No! No, I don't want it!"

"...are you afraid they'll think you stole it?" The boy didn't answer. "I won't tell; it can be our secret, just like the sweets."

The boy softly whimpered, straining to suppress his simple desires, watching the watch twirl on the end of its fob.

His eyes snapped to Nadir. "Enough with your idiotic questions, you - you - _you great booby_!"

Nadir had to laugh; it was a ridiculously childish insult.

Undeterred, the boy menacingly hissed, "I have some questions of my own!"

"I imagine you do; that's why you must've come in for a bit of civil conversation." Nadir polished his pince-nez on the corner of his shirt, then perched them on his crooked nose once more. "I will answer you as best I can; ask away."

"Where are we going?"

"We are going here - " Nadir again stretched out his hand again, the pocket watch sitting in his palm, showing the enamel depiction of the Persian palace. " - to the kingdom of Persia. Your presence was requested by the king himself."

"...a palace...a king…!" The boy gave a soft sigh, the threat that iced his words melting away, daring to barely trace one finger across the surface of the watch. "Does he want to purchase me?"

"Well…I would hate to put it that way…"

"Why? If it's true, just say it. I would be...honored...to be purchased by a king."

There were many slaves in the palace, it was true. While it wasn't a life he would choose for himself, if there were no other choices, one could do worse. A palace was still a palace. Seemingly without realizing what he was doing, the boy took the watch from Nadir and lovingly caressed it, fixated on the miniature palace, his mind dancing with fairy tale visions.

"Are there musicians there, too?"

"Yes…"

"And a court jester? A knight? A magician?"

"No, we don't have anyone like that at court. Mostly boring viziers, advisers, heads of state…"

"Is the palace really so lovely…?"

Nadir waved his hand. "Perhaps the reality won't live up to your idea…"

The boy's bony fingers swirled over the shining palace with its twinkling stars. "What about a princess? Every palace has a princess, right?"

"You've been listening to a lot of fairy tales, haven't you?"

"Well?"

"Yes…" Nadir gave a little cough and looked down at the tea in his cup.

"Is she beautiful?"

"...as all princesses are…"

Suddenly, the child cried in anguish. "...Oh, maybe they won't like me!"

Nadir said softly, "You play very beautifully; I'm certain the shah will be entertained."

"It's not that!" The boy desperately clutched at his mask. "It's this!"

Nadir was at a loss; that gruesome face was exactly what would appeal to the princess' black heart. May Allah forgive him for the ill thoughts he had against her but her reign of capricious terror was already unbearable and she was only a child herself. He wiped away a bit of powdered sugar from a Turkish delight that stuck to the corner of his beard and pondered how to proceed…

The opportunity to speak again escaped him; the child turned suddenly as if hearing something deep within the night. "They're coming back soon. I must go."

"I have a feeling I didn't get to many of your questions. If you'd like to drop in for tea again…"

The boy snorted as if the invitation was beneath him, then turned and as soundlessly as a cat slipped through the tent flap.

Nadir let out a breath that had caught in his throat. What a strange turn of events...This creature was unlike anything he had ever encountered, a child that spoke as if he was a world-weary traveler yet was easily lost in the fog of a fairy tale; a boy that spoke of killing with a cold and distant tone yet was entranced by a little enameled painting. The face of a devil, the music of heaven, and where his heart lay, Nadir wasn't sure.

As he put away the little tea set, lost in his thoughts, he saw that the entire pile of Turkish delights had vanished.


	3. Presentable

Nadir was awake when dawn bathed their encampment in its soft pastels; there was no way he could sleep after entertaining his odd visitor last night. He lay under his blanket, warding off the morning's frost until he heard the others stirring.

"Good morning…" Nadir wrapped his coat a bit tighter around himself as he approached the campfire where Raito was cooking breakfast.

"Good morning! Sleep well?"

"...not exactly...Travel, err, doesn't agree with me much…"

Raito gave him a crooked smile. "It's alright if you were nervous about being left alone with our clever friend over there...It's still chained up good and tight; we checked when we got back."

"Yes, and how did that go for you last night?" Nadir warmed his hands by the fire.

"Quite well! See?" Raito pointed over to a large box by the cage.

"What...what is that?"

"What's it look like, friend?" Raito chuckled.

"It can't be - "

Nadir blinked; it wasn't just a box.

It was a coffin.

"Don't worry; there's no body in it."

Nadir exhaled sharply.

"The body went to a doctor from a few towns over. The jewelry went to my friends who gave me the tip. We kept the clothing and the coffin."

"My god..." Nadir said.

"You see, a kid from a well-off family died not long ago. We figured if we were going to a palace, our friend needed to spruce up. The coffin, we think, will be a good addition to the act."

"My god!" Nadir jumped up from his seat, hastily pressing his handkerchief to his mouth to repress the rising revulsion within him.

"Relax!" Raito said, waving him back. "By the time they see we've dug up the body, we'll be long gone."

Darius rushed from his tent upon hearing Nadir's cries and hurried to his side, shooting an icy look over Nadir's shoulder at the laughing traveler.

In Persian, Nadir said, "Barbarians, they are barbarians! By Allah - ! But what can we do? I can't wait to wash my hands of this business, very nasty business!"

Darius hurried him away into his tent and gave him some tea to settle him. Nadir couldn't come out for the rest of that day, face those two evil people he was now chained to. He instead said a prayer for the soul of the defiled body, if only for his own peace of mind. Surely this place and these people were beyond Allah's reach, forgotten and forsaken.

Their group stayed one more day while they made preparations. The next morning, Nadir tried gamely to rejoin the two men for breakfast once more, offering polite apologies and sharing food with them. If there was nothing more to do about the situation than grin and bear it, then grin and bear it he must.

"You're used to living in a palace; we've had to learn to be more resourceful out here," Raito said with a laugh. Nadir nodded and poured the two men some of his favorite tea.

During breakfast, the older woman that had been around before handed off a bundle to the men. Sylvester unfurled the package and held up what appeared to be the fine suit of a young aristocrat.

"Isn't that a lovely sight? That old lady was kind enough to help clean this up a bit for a piece of silver." He pressed the royal blue velvet coat to his face and took a deep sniff. "Wouldn't guess this was ever on a corpse."

Nadir swallowed down his revulsion and politely nodded.

"Hopefully, this will fit that little monster. Let's go wake it up and see…"

Sylvester strode over to the cage, removing the whip from it's holster on his belt on the way over. He tossed the covering aside, beating the bars of the cage and shouting. To Nadir's surprise, a gaggle of cats squeezed through the bars and shot off in every direction.

"Damned cats..." Raito muttered. "It attracts them everywhere we go. They like to sneak in there and cuddle up with it. It's like it's made up of catnip from head to foot." He paused to spit on the earth. "The devil's familiars."

Rising and wiping his hands on pants that had obviously been used many times as a napkin, Raito said, "Let's go try on these nice new clothes."

Nadir and Darius sat on the riverbank, watching over the latest humiliation their strange charge was forced to suffer. The two men marched the child down to the river. Sylvester trained a pistol on the boy as he was made to strip at the water's edge. All that remained was his mask and the metal collar around his neck, the chain of which was firmly in Raito's hand. In his other hand was an ever-present whip which he would softly and restlessly smack against his thigh from time to time.

"Scrub up, you filthy mongrel." Sylvester tossed the child a ragged washcloth and a bit of soap. The boy waded knee-deep into the cold water, dutifully soaped up, and got to bathing himself. As the built-up grime of days, perhaps weeks, without a bath started to melt away, Nadir noted the pink criss-cross of long healed lash marks across the child's bony back, the thick red bands of irritated skin where the manacles had cut into his wrists.

During this demeaning exercise, several of the camp's children gathered further down the riverbank, children that would easily be the boy's playmates if things were different. Nadir didn't understand their language but he understood the gist of their worlds; cruel taunting, boorish insults.

Raito swore under his breath. "Send them away! They'll get us killed if we can't concentrate…"

The children grew bolder, tossed a few rocks at the boy. They shrieked in joy and fear as one finally grazed his shoulder. He whipped around, a growl in his throat. In response, Raito harshly yanked the chain on his neck and barked a few orders.

Nadir wished he could intervene, was almost considering trying to herd the children away, when suddenly, the boy ripped the mask from his head with a ferocious animalistic cry of rage. The group of children screamed in terror, practically climbing over each other as they fled from the riverside.

"You gave them a free show, you little idiot! Damn you!" Raito brought the whip down across the boy's shoulders with an impatient anger.

Irritated by the entire shameful ordeal, the child leapt up, hands on Raito's throat. Nadir gave a cry of surprise. Every thin, sinewy muscle was engaged and stood tight against his protruding bones, inhuman power coursing into the two hands squeezing a grown man's throat until he turned purple, wild anger like lightning in his eyes.

Suddenly, the child gasped and let go of him, staring up towards Nadir, past him. Nadir followed his line of sight to see that Sylvester was now pointing the pistol at him and not the boy. Darius made a noise of surprise and helplessly yet instinctively drew his dagger.

"Play along…" Sylvester whispered. Nadir tried his best to swallow down his fear.

Raito rubbed his throat. "Oh ho - that got your attention, didn't it? Fond of this oriental, aren't you?"

The boy was breathing hard, angry with his situation, angry with his captors, angry with himself for betraying his emotions, for caring what happened to Nadir.

"It's alright...it's alright…" Nadir said, trying to calm Darius, the men, the child, himself. "It's fine! Let's...let's try on those clothes, see if they fit."

Frustrated, the boy lowered his hands once more, became passive. Raito jabbed him between the shoulderblades with the butt of his whip to get him moving. On the grass by the river, the dead aristocrat's clothes were folded neatly. With the gun once more trained on him, the child slipped into the fancy royal blue suit.

"Not bad...maybe we can add a bit of lace at the cuff there so it doesn't look like it's so short in the sleeves…" Raito looked the child over, tugging this way and that on the fabric.

"It looks very nice," Nadir said. "He will look very good for his audience with the shah."

The boy glared at him. "Shut up, you immense idiot!"

His outburst earned him another jab between the shoulders yet Nadir couldn't help but crack a weary smile at this petulant insult. With a bit of refinement, the boy would fit right in at court.

As the boy was made to strip and put on his old ragged clothing once more, Nadir calmly scrubbed the grime from his pince-nez with his handkerchief.

"You know, the shah is fond of cats," he said to Sylvester, within the boy's earshot.

"Is he?"

"Yes!" Nadir replaced his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "He has quite a few of them, some are very rare breeds." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy perking up even as the manacles were locked down on his wrists again. Sylvester didn't answer, only made a sign to ward off the evil eye, mumbling under his breath that the strange oriental was babbling about his country's wicked ways.

Although Nadir always made enough tea for two every evening and kept a few extra sweets on hand, he never had another nighttime visit from his odd charge. Well, more accurately, a visit that he was aware of; the sweets that were left out went missing from time to time and his pocket watch had a habit of disappearing and reappearing as well. Finally, they reached the part of the journey they would take by boat. The night before, the men drilled a few holes into the side of the coffin, made the child lay inside completely naked, gave him a skin of water and some hardtack, and nailed the lid closed on him. As they were wrapping the coffin in chains, they saw Nadir's wary glance at their handiwork.

"It will be fine," Sylvester snorted. "You can't kill this devil, I assure you."

They packed the coffin into the cage and no more was said about it. Nadir sadly watched as it was loaded into the cargo hold like any other piece of property. The slaves in the palace didn't lead charmed lives, and the princess had her cruel moods, but Nadir thought that it would be preferable to this inhumanity.

He tried to persuade himself that the child had another trick, that he would find a way out of the coffin, but during the voyage, he went to check on their cargo and saw that, no, there was no trick, no magic, no escape. He could smell that the boy had been sick, no doubt from the rough rocking of the boat. Nadir reached through the bars of the cage and pressed his fingertips to one of the holes in the side of the coffin. There was a low, pitiful whimper and he felt cold fingers pressing back against his.

He heard a whisper in the dark - "Tell me more about the cats in the palace..."

Nadir couldn't help but oblige him, telling him stories of his time in the Persian court as the humble chief of police.

He spoke of the shah's treasured cats, pampered beyond belief, and how one fell asleep in a low-ranking politician's lap. The man was forced to sit still until the cat deigned to move again - 15 hours later. This anecdote earned a weak chuckle from within the coffin, delight in the thought of a kingdom of cats.

Nadir described the mosaics, the soaring architecture, the incomparable gardens, the sweeping beauty of their calligraphy. There were the artists and musicians that the shah called upon for entertainment, acrobats and jugglers. The gardens were full of strutting peacocks, the waterways choked with swans, and lovely little jewel-like birds kept in ornate cages all around.

He talked of his people's god, their religion, their practices - the call to worship five times a day, the mosques and their minarets, the tenets of their beliefs, the pillars of their faith, the fasting, the festivals.

He assured the boy that he would be well-received; there was a French mania sweeping the Persian court and anything from that country was sought after. He did his best to paint a beautiful picture, to paper over the ugly realities of court life, to soothe the poor, pitiful being, chained and sealed up alive in a coffin.

On the trip back up to the main deck, he passed Raito, no doubt going down to check on his property.

The man sneered at Nadir's kindness, saying, "You don't understand this creature. You think so fondly of it, one day, you will find its hands around your throat and you will be begging for this demon to strangle you. Mark my words!"

Nadir only shrugged and joined the rest of his group, glad that Persia was nearer every day and this ordeal would soon come to an end, one way or another.


	4. Why So Silent?

Finally, they touched Persian soil again. Nadir felt like he would burst into tears but tried to keep calm. The end was in sight and he could return to his regular predictable life once more.

Years later, Nadir would laugh at how naive he had been in this moment.

After disembarking, their retinue was brought to one of the shah's nearby properties to rest and collect themselves before moving on. The two men glanced all around, having never been inside a home so fine - or so foreign. Some serving girls brought out food for them and Nadir and Darius made note of how the men's evil eyes roamed over them. They would have to take precautions with these wicked men and couldn't count on them to act with civility, even as guests of the shah.

At the first chance Nadir had, he cracked open the coffin. Nadir had been sent many times chasing all over the world to find things for the shah, and most of the servants in the home were used to odd sights, but even they shied away in fear from the strange object. They brought it to an outside patio and got to work prying the lid off. The child slid out onto the grass, still breathing, but unconscious and covered in filth.

"See?" Raito grabbed a fistful of sackcloth mask and hair. "Still alive!"

"Barely!" Nadir covered his nose and mouth with his handkerchief to keep from retching at the smell. He ordered the servants to bring him a pitcher of water and removed the child's mask to allow him more air. The servants gasped at the sight but Nadir ignored them and gently poured the pitcher of water over the child's head, washing away the sweat and grime, rousing him.

The boy glanced all around at his surroundings. "What is this place…? Is this the palace…?"

"No, not yet. We're just at a residence I usually bring guests of the shah to rest before their audience."

"Where are my owners…?"

"I've sent them inside to wash up and eat. I'm going to get you a bath and some food as well. You can stay with -"

The child sat bolt upright, startling Nadir. Before he could say another word, the boy fled into the house.

Darius sat with the two men at a low table, a sumptuous meal spread out before them. He, like Nadir, was grateful to be home, desperate for the comforts of his native land, and extremely wary of these two foreigners. Their eyes roamed over the serving girls, the fine china, the silver candlestick holders.

Just as they were settling into the meal, they heard a commotion down the hall. The boy leapt into the room, filthy, naked, and barefaced, eyes on fire like a god of vengeance. Servants shrieked and scattered; one maid almost fainted in her panic to run from the room. Nadir ran behind him, barely able to keep up even though the boy was chained at the ankles.

"Have you missed me, good messieurs?" The child's voice was otherworldly, icy with a ferocious anger, unlike anything Nadir had ever heard. The two men stared on in horror, their faces completely bloodless. No doubt this behavior was a new revelation to them as well. Rage gathered around the child like an electric cloud, waves of power emanating from a nearly skeletal creature that had seemed half-dead moments ago.

"Why so silent, good messieurs? I've been looking all over for you and I'm finally pleased to join you for this sumptuous dinner." He sank into the cushions at the head of the low table, leaning far over, thrusting his face out, his unblinking eyes skewering them in their seats. "I can see you are shocked that I have not dressed properly for this fine meal. If you are so upset to look at me, imagine how I feel looking as I do!"

Nadir was frozen to the spot by the awesome anger; he wanted nothing more than to flee but he knew he had to try to regain control. He imagined this is what the poor palace cats must feel when they hid in fear from thunder and lightning during a summer storm!

"My good messieurs, I have had a vision…" A terrifying smile spread across the boy's grimy face, a smile that would strike fear in Nadir's heart every time he saw it in the many years that still lay ahead of them.

Raito was the first to break free from the spell. He made a move to stand, balling his hand into a fist. "Insolence -!"

"Strike me, _I dare you_." Raito was frozen once again by the boy's piercing tone. Laughing, the boy began to bring handfuls of food to his mouth, eating with gusto, crumbs flying from that terrifying grin. "If you beat me, I won't be able to perform. Without your star performer, you won't earn a cent. No act, no palace residency, none of the shah's riches."

Seeing that he had been temporarily defeated, Raito sank down in his seat. They were all completely stunned into silence. Darius sat with his dagger once more drawn yet heavy in his hand, unable to move. The boy, knowing he had them where he wanted them, continued to shove food into his horrible face.

"As I was saying, I had a vision during our journey. I have decided there are some changes to be made to our little act, changes that will surely entertain our esteemed audience. Last time, you were reluctant to listen to me, and my fiddling has brought in plenty of money during our time together, has it not?" He nodded, still grinning, still eating. He had to be ravenous and half starved to death from the way he had been packaged and shipped like an object. He loudly slurped down a cup of tea and continued. "There are some things you'll need to give me, and you will go out tomorrow and fetch them. And I'm going to eat all that I want because I'll need my strength. And I will be allowed to play my violin as much as I please because I need to practice. And if you don't do as I say it will be a bad lookout for you, a bad lookout indeed! If we fail because of your stupidity, I'll - I'll kill you! _I'll kill you!_ I'LL KILL YOU!"

The boy's voice climbed from a raspy whisper to a roar. Nadir finally broke free of the spell the scene had cast on them and grasped the boy by the shoulders, stopping his violent shaking, silencing his strange voice.

In a steady tone that masked the terror roiling in his gut, Nadir said, "It's been a long journey, and we will make sure to get you all that you need for your act, but for now, you need a nice bath and your own hot meal. Why don't you come with me to my own quarters and I'll make the arrangements…?"

The boy turned towards Nadir, nodding, his voice soft and faraway now, sounding lost and distracted. "...yes, yes…"

Nadir called a terrified servant over and asked them to conduct the child to his personal quarters, then took the keys for the manacles from the two men, assuring them their valuable charge wouldn't flee.

He personally made certain the boy had a thorough, hot bath, dressed him in native clothes, and fed him a hearty meal. The journey had taken its toll on all of them yet the boy seemed more alive than ever with frantic energy. His fingers twitched over and over as if fingering an invisible violin, his gaze was unfocused as if he was listening to distant music.

"For tonight, friend, you can sleep right here," Nadir patted a large, comfortable bed, the bed he usually slept in at the end of these journeys. "I'll be right here and I'll be sure you're safe." He indicated a pile of cushions and pillows on the floor next to the bed.

The child was sitting in the window, looking down at the manicured grounds, silhouetted by moonlight. He turned his head to face Nadir, his eyes like two stars in the dark.

"You amazing idiot, it's you that should be worried about your safety!" He gave a mirthful little chortle and came over to the bed.

"I suppose so," Nadir said, turning down the covers. Awkward and unsure, the boy climbed into the bed, touching the humble cotton sheets with reverence as if he had never seen such finery. "I'm not so scared, though," Nadir continued. "You've had plenty of chances to do me wrong and you haven't yet. You seem very determined to do a good job so I don't believe you want to go anywhere. And besides, you know that if you run away, I'll be in a lot of trouble."

"Trouble?" The boy's brow furrowed.

"That's right. The shah sent me all the way to Russia to find you and bring you back. He is very much looking forward to your performance; how would it be for me if you ran away in the night?"

A look came over the boy's face as if he was realizing for the first time that not all cages are made of steel bars. Nadir hated to do these things but he, too, was trapped.

"Now, will you be a good boy for me?"

"...a good boy…" The child spoke the words as if they were a strange and foreign concept. Nadir tried to tuck the sheets around him but he grunted and kicked them away, wary of being strapped down even without his chains.

"Would you like me to sing you to sleep?"

The boy blinked, confused. "Why?"

"...I suppose it's something to help children relax, to give them sweet dreams."

"I am not a child."

"Oh?" Nadir's eyebrows crept up. "Then what are you?"

"Just...a freak. An animal. A thing." The boy turned his face away from him, turned towards the darkness. Nadir swallowed down a tight lump in his throat and reached for the boy's hand.

"I don't need your pity!" He growled, jerking his hand away. "Let's hear your wretched little song."

Nadir sighed and quietly, meekly sang a few bars of something he heard his mother sing to him when he was the same age or younger.

When he finished, the child was silent for a moment, and then asked, "Do you have any children?"

"No…" Nadir shook his head. "I don't."

"Why not?"

Nadir sighed; it was not a subject he wanted to get into, not at this late hour, not with this curious creature.

Another moment of silence, and then, "...It's just as well. Your singing is atrocious. You'd give any child nightmares with that awful pitch. Maybe I should teach you a thing or two - if it's even possible."

Nadir couldn't help but give a tired chuckle at this wicked little joke, delighting in a bit of mischievous humor that kept tears at bay. How very adept this creature would prove at keeping sorrow away with his pitch black humor in their journey together!

Nadir lay on his makeshift bed and closed his eyes tightly but sleep eluded him. He was more exhausted than he had ever been in his life and yet he still couldn't find peace; fear and uncertainty and apprehension swirled within him. A few times throughout the night, he glanced up to look at his charge and was met with those two yellow lights in the dark.

"Can't sleep? That's what you get for laying your old bag of bones body all the way down there. Take the bed and let me sleep in your place; I'm more used to the floor..." he whispered in his strange, unnerving voice. Nadir simply grunted, rolled over, and tried once more to sleep.

At last, an hour or so before dawn, he got a bit of rest. When he awoke a little later in the morning, the boy was impatiently waiting for him. Before he had two seconds to rub the sleep from his eyes, the child leapt to his side.

"Finally! I have your duties for the day written right here. Stop laying around - we must get to work!" The boy thrust a paper with a crudely written list scrawled on it. He was an eager and busy little taskmaster indeed!

The day was filled with a whirlwind of activity, all at the child's direction. He asked for cloth and paint and flowers, all manner of things. Although he insisted on wearing his chains and kept to one room to minimize the commotion in the household, he never seemed to stop crafting, creating, composing. Just as the men told Nadir at the beginning, the boy practically transformed before their eyes with several good meals in him, staying lean yet growing ever stronger, even within a few hours. Nadir was both terrified and fascinated. More than anything, he wanted it all to be over with, for the shah (or more likely, the princess) to make their decision and allow Nadir to go back to his regular, routine life.


	5. An Audience With The Shah

"Are you ready?" Nadir came to collect the child for his audience with the shah. The boy had been fussing in front of a full length mirror since before dawn, fretting over his appearance. Just as the men had said, the brilliant blue suit looked brand-new, as if it had never been the carefully chosen garment for a child's corpse. He had sewn himself a full-face mask of white cloth, stitched it to give the impression of eyebrows, a nose, a mouth, regular features.

"I suppose…" Doubt had crept into his voice. Just a day ago, he was a tiny yet terrifying incarnation of a deity of vengeance; today, he was unsure, worried, weak, a nervous child preparing for a recital.

"Let's not keep the shah waiting." Nadir motioned for him to follow.

The boy gathered up his violin, the old, tatty instrument had been polished to perfection by his busy hands, and followed Nadir outside of the residence.

The servants had made themselves scarce, were only glimpsed as fluttering shadows in the eaves, hiding from the strange visitor. In the main patio, the other three, Sylvester, Raito, and Darius, waited for them. The coffin waited there, too, its exterior painted with with the child's fascinating designs, its interior filled with expensive, fragrant flowers, just as he demanded. The boy leaned forward, giving it one last glance.

"What's this?" He pressed his finger through a hole the size of his fist in the back of the coffin.

"It's for this - " Raito leapt forward and clapped the iron collar around the boy's neck. The child, furious, turned to attack, but Sylvester quickly came from behind and threaded the chain the collar was attached to through the hole. He yanked it hard, drawing the boy straight back into the coffin. Nadir made a move to stop them but Raito gave him a hard shove to the side.

"You didn't think you'd be walking free, did you? No, your chains are still ours, little wretch. Now that we know you can get in and out of these whenever you'd like - " He reached down and rattled the manacles. " - we'll find other ways to keep you in line. We're bigger than you and smarter than you; don't you dare get ahead of yourself. Did you think this funny oriental is your friend? No - he's just trying to make a good impression on his king."  
Nadir made a sound of protest but by the angry suspicion that blazed in the boy's eyes, the damage had been done; besides, wasn't there a kernel of truth behind it?

The boy fumed, cast his eyes down, resigned himself to the situation.

"Good. We'll teach you to be reasonable once more. We always do, though, don't we?" Raito leaned over and laughed in his face, then motioned to seal up the coffin. It was just as well that they locked down the lid; the boy was seconds away from once again curling his hands around the man's throat.

The shah had decided to receive them in a lesser room, but just because it was smaller it didn't mean it was any less opulent. Nadir tried to read the meaning behind the venue...Was it a smaller room because he doubted his entertainment's abilities? Was it because he only wanted an intimate audience? As Nadir went on ahead to make his obsequious prostrations before his king, he noted there were just a handful of the shah's favorites in attendance. The most important guest, though, was hidden at the shah's side.

The shah reclined on a raised dais, his most treasured cat, pure white with mismatched eyes, nestled in the crook of his arm. To his side was a recent and unusual addition; a latticed alcove where his favored child, the little princess, was sequestered. Usually women were hidden away in another room or building, but the little princess insisted on being with her father and so he had this little addition made. Her influence at court was undeniable and Nadir could feel her burning eyes following him from within the shadows of her hiding place.

As he was the one who best spoke French, Nadir was obligated to stay during the performance and act as a translator. The thing was, part of him wanted to hear that heavenly music again, but the other part wished to just go back to his home, draw the windows, and block out the world. A great sense of unease kept kicking deep within him and he would rather be blind to whatever was causing his instincts to react this way.

"Our Imperial Majesty, these visitors are pleased to present with you, per your request, a musician of great talent, the - "

" - living corpse, right? That's what they call him? Bring him in."

Nadir bowed deeply and called for the entertainment to begin. The shah's interest was immediately piqued as, with all of the solemnity of a true funeral, Raito and Sylvester slowly marched into the room, carrying the decorated casket on their shoulders. They brought it to the floor and stood it upright. There was a collective curious intake of breath as those in attendance waited to see what would emerge from the morbid item.

The men flicked open the latches and swung open the lid, revealing the child nestled within an abundance of beautiful, fragrant flowers, his arms folded over his chest, his violin in one hand, the bow in the other. After a moment that seemed to linger indefinitely, the boy opened his golden eyes. Slowly, with precise control, he stepped forward, unfurling his arms. The only sound in the room was the rattling of his manacles and the chain at his neck as the slack was let out to allow him to walk forward.

With a flourish, he executed a bow for the shah, his eyes flicking to the architecture and the cat for just a second. When he stood straight once more, he seemingly transformed before them. All of his nervousness from even an hour ago vanished and before them was a mesmerizing and flawless performer.

The moment his bow touched the violin, Nadir felt an unrealized tension releasing within him, as if he had been crushed in an unknown vice until the very second he heard that intoxicating music once more. Like an opium addict, he realized how badly he craved these sweet sounds. Those in attendance were now just as hopelessly hooked as he was, enthralled to the incredible music that seemed to fill the room, fill their ears, fill their soul.

Then - after a moment to readjust his instrument - the child began to sing, accompanying himself at the same time. The song turned into something familiar, the words were those he had heard many times before...Somehow, the devil had memorized the song he had sung to him, the native Persian lullaby, from the one time he heard it. He didn't know what the words meant - as far as Nadir knew - and his pronunciation was a bit off, but other than that, it was beyond perfect.

Nadir was already weak with yearning for this music; it was a miracle his shaking legs didn't give out from under him and he didn't collapse to the ground at the sound of his voice. The two men also seemed taken aback; they had heard his music, they had heard his voice, but the child was now completely applying himself to exhilarating and terrifying effect.

After playing the last note, he folded over into another exaggerated bow. He waited for applause but none came; everyone seemed suspended still on that last sweet tone.

The first creature to stir was the cat. The treasured pet excitedly chirped and trotted over to the boy as if greeting his true master, and the boy responded with gentle affection. No longer a commanding maestro, he bent down to stroke the cat's silky fur, only a curious child once more. The shah leaned forward, eyes glued to the two at the center of the room. Raito and Sylvester huddled together for a moment, and then shook the boy by the shoulder, speaking harshly in his ear. Within seconds of doing so, the boy began to sob, a sound that chilled Nadir to the bone. His weeping was as beautiful as his singing, but far more eerie, otherworldly - a musician, a monster, a child, an angel.

"What was said?" the shah asked pointedly of Nadir, sending him forward again.

"Please no, please don't kill it!" The boy pleaded with Nadir as he approached the group, his fingers curling into Nadir's shirtfront.

"What? What do you mean?"

Raito laughed. "We told it that the cat was a sacred animal, that it had been defiled by its touch and that now the shah would put the cat to death."

"Why would you say such a thing?" Nadir said, trying to manage the anger in his voice, struggling to keep it at a respectable volume.

"Well...there's more than one performance you can wring from it. The tears are very entertaining, aren't they?" Raito nodded towards the shah who seemed caught between curiosity and delight at the boy's sorrow.

Nadir sighed and turned to the boy. "Don't worry; there's not any kind of custom like this. But the cats are very special here, as you already know, and the shah is probably, err, intrigued that his beloved pets like you."

The child's strange cries stopped, withering to just a few sniffles as he adjusted his mask. Nadir returned to the shah's side, bowing and explaining the situation. Beyond the latticed alcove, the sound of the princess' gleeful giggling floated out. Nadir lowered his head in a gesture of respect in an attempt to hide his frown; no good could come from her amusement in the child's cries.

She whispered something to her father, and the shah called to Nadir once more. "Let's see what else he is known for."

"...as you wish, your excellency."

Nadir once again addressed the group. "His majesty wishes to see - "

The men nodded and jerked the chain around the boy's neck. "Go on; show them what they all want to see."

The child gave an aggravated sigh, tension gathering in his small frame. Swifty, he tucked the violin under his masked chin, playing a quick melody, a strain of desperation running through it as if begging them to remember the beauty he was capable of. This time, when he finished, just as he had performed dozens if not hundreds of times before, he took off his mask at the end of his bow.

Screams echoed throughout the chamber but only one caught in Nadir's ears; the peal of delight from the little princess. The boy kept his eyes glued to the floor, bitter tears clinging to his lashes, his distorted face shining and wet from weeping for the shah's cat. In consolation, the pet continued to wind itself around his legs.

"Remarkable!" The shah exclaimed in a harsh whisper. The princess spoke softly making the shah lean over to hear her better. His eyes, like everyone else's, remained riveted to the boy's gruesome face. "Daroga, tell us about the chains...Is this...thing...dangerous?"

Nadir felt the unease within him growing stronger. "Oh, shadow of god; this is what they claim but...he is just a boy…"

"Exactly!" The shah bent towards Nadir, eyes bulging. "How dangerous could it be? Is it really a monster?"

How quickly the boy had been reduced to "it" again! The princess was speaking low once more, humming in the shah's ear.

"Let's see what it can do. Take it off the chain, set him on a man, see what he is capable of." The shah gestured towards a few of the guards. They laughed amongst themselves at the prospect of going against a small boy until one of them stepped forward, finding the task rather amusing. Nadir approached the two foreigners again, told them to take the chain from around the boy's neck.

"What? Are you mad?" Sylvester hissed at him. "Tell your king this is unacceptable, that this thing is too strong!"

Nadir glanced back at the shah who impatiently waved them on. With great trepidation, Sylvester unlocked the collar around the boy's neck.

"What is expected of me?" the child calmly asked Nadir.

"They think that there is a reason you are in chains…" Nadir spoke low and close to the boy's ear as they removed the manacles on his legs.

The boy nodded. "They want me to go up against this fellow?"

"I don't know what they expect, setting a grown man against a child," he answered. "I know this is not ideal but perhaps you can just...fold quickly, don't fight, go limp. They'll let you go perhaps and - "

"No. They want to see all that I am capable of and I will demonstrate it if it is the shah's wish. I want to please him. Leave these chains!" He yanked his wrists away from Sylvester's key, insisting on keeping the manacles on his hands. Addressing Nadir again, he asked "Does the shah want me to kill this chap?"

"My god - " Nadir gasped. "You can't possibly - "

"I will if it will please your king." The boy squared his shoulders and strode forward. The cat followed close at his heels, and when he realized this, he ushered the animal towards the shah's dais with a soft, lilting voice. He directed the cat back to the dais with a gentle wave of his hand and it obediently curled up at the shah's side once again. The shah gave a little cry of delight and the boy bowed deeply in response.

With the same air as before, that of a consummate performer, he pivoted on his heel and approached his opponent. Nadir's sense of unease was now roiling within him. He extracted his handkerchief with shaking hands and dabbed cold sweat from his forehead.

The boy politely bowed towards the other contestant, earning a scornful laugh from the guard before him. And then - it was over.

In the blink of an eye, the child had climbed as nimbly as a monkey onto the man's back and wrapped the chains from his wrists around the guard's neck. Nadir saw it once more, that intense, profound hatred coursing through every muscle and sinew in the child's body. All of his anger towards humanity and the inhumane treatment he had suffered at the hands of men was expressed as raw, maniacal power.

Nadir turned away yet it hardly mattered. He heard the thump of the man's body as it hit the marbled floor, the sick, wet crunch as the boy snapped his neck, and the screams from the gallery. The most piercing scream, the one that was louder than any other, was the shrill cry of unbridled delight from the little princess.  
"I want him, I want him, daddy! He's just perfect! I will give him a funny French name and dress him in fine French clothes and find him lots of playmates to play with! Pay them anything they want, _I want him now!_ "

Nadir turned back to see what remained of the gruesome scene. The boy was finishing another bow, yet he had that same resigned look as when they unmasked him. He didn't understand the language, didn't understand how deeply he had pleased that monstrous child at the shah's side. There was no doubt that he would understand sooner or later and what would become of him then?

The king made a motion for the guards to take their fallen compatriot's body away. They approached the scene warily, terror clearly written on their features. He watched them as they moved closer, standing statue still, the malice still burning in his eyes. While he was watching them, Raito and Sylvester quickly snapped the iron collar on him once more. There was so much powerful energy swirling around the child one wondered if it even made a difference.

The shah called Nadir and another official close to him to have a quick and quiet conversation. The two foreign men watched the exchange, impatiently shifting from foot to foot and winding the chain in their hands. The boy looked on, hope written across his misshapen face. After several minutes, a pouch was produced and Nadir approached them.

"The shah has come to a divine decision. The child will stay; he trusts you should be satisfied with this…"

Raito took a quick peek inside of the pouch, fingering the cash within it and turned back to Nadir with a sneer. "What about palace residency? We were supposed to stay here; you promised…"

"The shah," Nadir said, keeping his tone even. "wishes to purchase the entire act. You have been well compensated by any measure."

"No - this act is our bread and butter! No matter what you pay us, it's not worth giving it up!"

Raito gave the signal and Sylvester pulled the chain through the back of the coffin, jerking the boy back and slamming the lid down.

From inside, the boy heard more arguing, raised voices going back and forth, but couldn't quite make out what was being said. He was locked in the blackness with his anguish. How could he have come this far only to be held back by these two monsters' insatiable greed? He clawed at the lid but his previous exertion and grief had rendered him powerless. He wept desperate silent tears in the dark.

After the shouting came silence, the sounds of movement, confusion, more silence. Finally, the lid to his coffin was unlatched. Like Lazarus being raised from the dead, Nadir opened the lid and led the child out from the darkness. He quickly glanced around, expecting his captors to be nearby, but they weren't anywhere to be found.

"Those two men are gone; you will never see them again," Nadir said.

"Does that mean…?"

"Yes. They have come to an agreement regarding your exchange and you are now property of his eminence. The shah has purchased you - your act - for a very, very high price."

The expression of joy that fell upon the boy's distorted face was both beautiful and strange, so unlike anything he had ever seen. With a great cry he dashed forward and threw himself on the floor before the shah in a grand gesture of submission, speaking endless words of gratitude. This quite pleased the shah who looked down on his new purchase, beyond satisfied.

There was another whisper at his side and suddenly the guards were upon the boy, taking him up by the limbs, drawing their swords, and pulling the chain against his throat.

"Wait - wait -!" Nadir ran forward, bowing and scraping to the shah to buy a second more of time.

"What will happen to me?" The child's voice was strained with panic.

"One moment, one moment…" Nadir traded quick words with the guards then turned back to the child, a trickle of sweat slipping from his temple. "You must listen to me, listen to me carefully…"  
"What is to happen? What's happening?" The boy squirmed, forcing the guards to tighten their grip on him.

"Calm yourself, remain still…" Nadir was trying his best to keep an even tone but his eyes betrayed his fear. "The princess has asked to see you...up close. She wishes to touch you…"

"Touch me?"

"Just...don't move, go limp. I don't know what she will do to you but they - " he indicated the guards. " - will kill you if you make any movement. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded and allowed himself to be pushed and pulled up to where the shah was perched. The shah leaned over to peer at the boy's face up close, stare into his golden eyes. He took a bejeweled dagger from a guard and placed it under his chin, tilting the boy's face this way and that all while uttering half-heard words in a low whisper to himself.

After drinking in his fill he motioned the guards to take him to the alcove. The guards pressed him to the floor, swords drawn on him. The door to the latticed alcove slowly opened. The guards looked away in deference but kept their blades on his throat.

The boy trembled, fear and curiosity running wild in his mind. His face was forced to the floor, the cheek on his better side forced to the marble. He strained his eyes to the side as far as possible to see within the soft shadows of the alcove. He caught a glimpse of draped silks and sumptuous fabric, gold and gems glinting in the folds. A sheer veil hid a face, allowing a small partition for the eyes - glittering deep green, like emeralds. He heard a slight, yet excited, sigh and then - a hand appeared, decorated with beautiful dark scrolling patterns. As light as a butterfly, the hand descended towards him. The boy's breath caught in his throat. Even without Nadir's warnings, he found himself utterly unable to move even if he wanted to and lay completely limp at this heavenly creature's feet. One delicate finger extended and floated gently down to the boy's deformity. Then - the hand delivered one hard poke right to the boy's exposed skull. It didn't hurt, but startled him so that he gave a small cry. The girl shrieked with unbridled joy, causing him to flinch at the unexpected scream.

She started speaking loudly and quickly, words pouring forth with excitement. The child didn't understand what she was saying but the shah seemed pleased enough. With a wave of his hand, the guards dragged the child away, Nadir following close behind.

The child was thrust into a whirlwind of activity, scrubbed clean and looked over by the court physician who remarked he was in far better health than he should be and mentioned he would like to study the child's deformity more thoroughly at a later date. His iron collar was removed and he was dressed in a prisoner's shrift for the moment although the only ones they had were for grown men and it hung off of his thin, small body. Nadir was forced to keep his wrists chained until he was conducted to a prison cell. Once there, Nadir leaned against the bars, watching the boy merrily going from wall to wall, reveling in the finest room he had ever had.

"Is this what palace life is like?" he asked, bouncing excitedly on his own bed, the meager hay-filled mattress of a convict. "It's wonderful! Look at this room - walls and sturdy bars so that no one can get in!"

"Yes - but this is only temporary…"

"Temporary?" The boy's face fell in anguish.

"From what I understand, they will be putting you in your own apartment, and it will be much bigger than this I believe. It will still have a locking door, though, and you will be safe." Nadir polished his pince-nez with his handkerchief, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing the wonder in the child's eyes.

"Bigger than this? Oh, but I hardly need anything more than this room...They are so generous to me, I will do anything they ask, anything!" Joy, as translated on those twisted features, was a strange yet sweet sight. It was something Nadir knew he shouldn't be pleased to see but he couldn't help himself. The boy pitched forward on the bed, pressing the threadbare sheet to his eyes to capture his tears.

After stifling a breathless sob of joy, he said, "Did you see her?"

"...the princess? No...I had to look away."

"You did? Ah, you old fool!" He sat upright, laughing into his hands. "She was so very beautiful! Her hands were painted with beautiful artwork - "

"That is a practice of women in this country. It's called henna, it stains the skin."

" - and her face was covered! What must she be like under her mask?"

"This is another custom of the women in this country, one you should learn now. Women here aren't as visible as other are kept separate and safe from prying eyes, held to a sacred standard. You must be careful…"

He gave another wild laugh at Nadir's expense. "But she touched _me_ , silly man. She touched me and she did not die and she still consented to keep me here in the castle. Ah, I will do anything for her!"

Nadir frowned and tucked his chin to his chest. The boy's interest was innocent enough for now, but what would happen when he grew older? And what would the princess make of him, mold him into during the intervening years?


	6. The Perfect Pet

Over the many years they spent together, the boy addressed Nadir with all manner of insults - buffoon, silly old man, great booby, and fool to name a few - and they were all true. Nadir was the biggest fool that ever existed and his first idiotic thought was that he could lock the prison cell door, bid the boy goodnight, and go back to the regular and routine life that he had before. The morning after the boy's first night in the palace, the shah summoned Nadir and informed him that he was to remain responsible for this child...indefinitely. Thus began many endless years at the other end of a chain that bound him to this wild, unmanageable, and incomparable genius.

The child's formal introduction to the court was an incredible success. His music enchanted his audience and when he unmasked himself at the end of the performance, his bare face terrified everyone as well. Everyone, that is, except for the shah, who roared with glee at the shock the spectacle caused, and the little princess, whose almost musical laughter filtered out of the latticed alcove where she and her ladies looked on.

In one week, the boy learned their language. In another, he knew all of the fairytales of the realm backwards and forwards, squeezed from Nadir every night as he locked him in his cell. He began telling the stories during mealtimes and even if it was one all those present had heard hundreds of times before, the way he told them, accompanied by his violin, was beyond delightful, quickly making him a feature at court. Soon, he was creating his own stories, the wonders he spun from his mind unceasing, but it never softened the blow of his repulsive appearance, which pleased his new owners. They enjoyed the way the child's face made the aristocrats and politicians uneasy, made those beneath them uncomfortable, frightened, disturbed.

Truly, the shah couldn't have made a better purchase. The child lived only to satisfy their every whim, even trying to catch their eye like a dog would when they were occupied with other things. There was never a more faithful servant, no one who had ever devoted themselves so thoroughly to being a slave. Of course, coming from what he had known, the palace was a paradise, and he was doted on as if he was a treasured pet in a strange sort of way.

The boy was transformed - no more beatings, no more starvation, no more obvious cruelty. He was given an apartment in a high tower filled with French furniture and like an oversize doll, he was dressed in only the latest aristocratic fashions from overseas. The princess christened him "Monsieur", the very first name he ever had in his life, something that saddened Nadir yet gave the boy a twisted happiness. In gratitude, he thought of nothing more than the shah and the princess' pleasure. Applying his incredible mind to this task, they were never without entertainment.

Nadir was amazed - and yet frightened - at how intelligent his young charge proved to be. It wasn't just music, wasn't just stories; he began crafting and creating, making little sculptures and toys and works of art. He seemingly never slept and so used his every waking hour to build a world full of dreams for his masters. Musician, slave, scholar, fool, magician, storyteller, a toy that never tired...he was everything they needed and wanted.

Nadir tried his best to steer his young charge to better things, made an effort to take meals or at least tea with him several times a week. During this quiet time, he made no demands of the child, allowed him to relax, spoke as freely as he could.

Seeing that there was more the boy was capable of, Nadir worked for almost an entire year on convincing the shah that his eminence himself had the most brilliant idea - to give the boy an education. Almost immediately, French tutors were brought in but soon, the boy eclipsed their limited knowledge and Nadir was tasked with finding ways to expand his intelligence. An entire library of books began lining the walls of the child's room. He was allowed to shadow the court physician. He sat in on classes with the best professors in the country. He was given whatever he desired to tinker and explore with, a harpsichord and a grand piano were brought in, gems and fine metals ran through his fingers as he created ornaments for those in favor at court.

And masks, so many masks! He crafted myriad masks, beautiful ones, frightening ones, ones made of simple paper, others made of gold and silver, enough masks so that he never had to wear the same one twice for months and months. He treated all of these riches and all of the access to knowledge and learning as tools for serving his masters and repaid them back in multiple ways.

There were many rosy hours of amusement the shah and princess requested of the child that Nadir wished he could forget…

They were excited with how well the boy had performed when pitted against a guard who expected nothing of him; they upped the stakes by finding men, convicts and condemned men with nothing left to lose to go against him in one-on-one combat.

The child seemed to revel in an opportunity to drain his soul of the endless well of hatred for mankind within him through lessening their numbers and threw himself into this task as well yet it seemed to just darken his mind further. Nadir wondered many times if the child truly understood the difference between right and wrong, he was so very intelligent and yet innocent in strange ways…

Every time a condemned man or a dissident or a foreign rebel was set before him, Nadir couldn't bear to watch. The sight of him taking another life or - Allah forbid! - losing a match hurt him to his core, sickened him - something that didn't go unnoticed by the little princess. She insisted he stay and watch, made him point his eyes to the arena, and laughed as Nadir squirmed during these gruesome exercises.

The little princess enjoyed finding opportunities to make those beneath her uncomfortable or unhappy, loved finding ways to hurt them. Forcing Nadir to watch the child was just one of her tricks. With such a willing participant in her schemes who seemingly had as much shame as a poor dog ready to die for her, the child was a tempting target of her blackest whims.

It started with openly mocking him, of course. Treating him like a toy and setting him apart from Persian dress and customs marked him as an outsider even though Nadir saw how he longed to be part of regular life. Although his eyes wandered over the court attendees sitting together on carpets and cushions enjoying exquisite palace meals, he was made to sit at a French style table and only given only French meals.

The princess even found a way to make a mockery of his native religion, calling in a missionary priest from time to time to perform a mass and give the child communion as if it were a spectacle. The boy performed as expected, kneeling and rising and reciting the proper lines for his mistress' amusement. He and the princess enjoyed the look of terror on the priest's face when he had to place the wafer on the boy's tongue. The rumors of the child's savagery had reached his ears, too...

Nadir had hoped there was a way to save the child's soul and tried as best he could manage, even if it was only this world and not in the world beyond. Christianity had already been distorted into a performance and at times, if the call to prayer caught Nadir in the boy's quarters, the child followed along as he made his supplications towards Mecca, but only out of curiosity and without conviction. Nadir was certain the words of the prophet wouldn't reach him either, but there were values he could try to instill, a path he could try to set him on. After performances, when his work was done and they were taking tea, Nadir gave him space to act as he wished, didn't make any demands. In Nadir's constant and reassuring presence, the boy somewhat relaxed, acted as he wanted, that is, the opposite of what was expected of him in court - wearing Persian clothes, speaking French, going without his mask. Nadir spoke plainly to him, tried to reinforce the better impulses of the child's heart, but the princess' influence was like a constant shadow.

It wasn't enough for her to make demands of him at court and run his life from her father's side. Soon, she grew bold enough to request his presence in the harem, something that was completely unheard of any male performer. As she had her father wound around her finger, he eventually relented. Her mother had no say in any of it; she had been broken down by years of trying to tame her unruly and wicked daughter. Besides, they reasoned, the child, even with all of his refined manners and aristocratic airs, was still only an animal, barely a human being at all.

During these trips, Nadir not only had to manacle his wrists but also shackle his legs and add a collar and chain - these made of gold and not the iron he had before. (Of course, after watching this boy take life after life for the shah's pleasure, it was obvious that he was bound and chained only because he allowed it. Once he was turned loose, shackles or no, there was no stopping him.)

There was only so far Nadir could take him; He couldn't conduct the boy to the inner sanctum and had to turn him over to the fearsome protectors of the women's quarters, the eunuchs. The eunuchs were his only conduit of information, and Nadir paid dearly for any trickle of gossip since the boy remained tight lipped about his journeys to the mysterious world of women.

During those early visits, he was kept chained to a post and hidden by veils so that he could only faintly see the shapes of passing ladies. As their entertainment, he was made to play all manner of instruments and sing or tell stories for the princess and her retinue. One by one, the veils between them were eventually removed. As she grew even bolder in her requests, he was left unchained and allowed to sit at his mistress' feet like a loyal dog, guards all around with their hands on their swords' hilts, ready to lop off a hand if he lay a finger on any woman. Speaking of what this dangerous pair did together, the eunuchs only sneered in disgust; the boy had no shame and the princess put him through several humiliating paces.

She would set him on her ladies, taking off his mask and forcing them to draw closer and closer until they turned away, quaking with fear. She would feed him sweets and make remarks about the way he ate, pointing out to her ladies how ugly she found his mouth deformity and how disgusting he was, but he never flinched. She would often drag him around by the chain on his neck and although he was as surefooted as a cat, she loved to see him stumble, so he would fall to his knees at times to please her.

Although she quite liked this at first, she wasn't really happy until she made someone else truly suffer and he was too perfect a participant. Soon, her games turned much darker.

It started with telling him that one of the palace cats had fallen to its death from a parapet or had been trampled by a horse. As he dearly loved the palace cats, he would burst out crying until, laughing, she confessed her lie. He caught on quickly to this game, so she had to go further.

She would chain him to a tree in the garden for him to provide music for her and her ladies and then lure the swans and peacocks to her with little bits of breads and sweets. As soon as they drew near, she would pelt them with rocks or even kick them. (She could never do this to the palace cats; they were her father's pride and joy and perhaps the one thing that would break the devotion the boy had for her and she wasn't ready to go so far just yet.) Her mistreatment of the swans, peacocks, and whatever else she caught brought on a torrent of tears from the boy. She would continue until he was begging her on his knees to stop.

Watching him pleading and sobbing, she would scream with joy, "Listen to the beautiful music! Ah, his tears are sweeter than his voice!"

It was one of these times in the garden that Nadir feared she had finally broken him. She had asked him to catch all of the butterflies in the garden for her, and he set about this task with a glee that made Nadir uneasy for he was certain it wouldn't end well. Seeing his discomfort, the boy mocked Nadir, calling him all of his little funny insulting names as he gathered the lovely insects and placed them in a decorative box with mesh panels of his own making. The eunuchs arrived, signaling that he was to be chained to the tree for the princess and her ladies to safely enter and that Nadir must leave the child in their care. When the boy was returned to Nadir afterwards, he was loudly weeping and so weak he could hardly stand.

The moment he was let out of his chains in his apartment, he threw himself face down on the floor and continued crying, refusing to speak. Nadir was unsure if he should stay or go, but when he made a move towards the door, the boy grasped his ankle, keeping him rooted to the spot. It took half an hour of gentle coaxing before the boy uttered a word and what he described was exactly what Nadir feared.

The boy was chained to the tree as usual, the ornamental box filled with butterflies on a table waiting for her highness. She praised him, going on and on about how lovely the insects were. He rattled off the names of the species of those he could identify, told her what flowers they preferred, said he could make her a garden just to catch and house them.

Nadir could picture her eyes alight with malicious glee as the boy described what she did next. She reached inside the box and, one by one, she took each butterfly out and tore off its wings. The child howled and cried and begged but she wouldn't stop. The entire time, she spoke twisted words of love, calling him her darling pet, her beloved animal, her precious plaything. Laughing, she tossed the shredded insects at him until there were no more and he was a crumpled wreck on the floor, exactly the state he was in when the eunuchs brought him back to Nadir. A boy who could murder men without blinking was brought to his knees by the cruel deaths of a few butterflies.

Nadir tried to offer him comfort, reached out to him and placed his hands on the child's shaking shoulders but with a great surge of anger, he refused to be touched, pushed Nadir away. His eyes were opened a bit at that moment, understood even more than before that anything he cared for would be targeted. He finally knew, as Nadir did, that eventually one of them would be chained by circumstances and the other would be a butterfly within the princess' hands.

Nadir was sure his slavish dedication had finally been shattered but the boy kept repeating to himself, "I _must_ obey her, I must!". While her cruelty didn't break him this time, it did introduce a hairline fracture into his psyche and he soon put his keen mind to testing his boundaries. Keeping on top of his antics made the poor old daroga of the Mazanderan's hair go grey almost to the very top of his head well before he was even 40, made him gain 10 unsightly pounds around the midsection from stress eating the rich sweets he had a weakness for, caused him to wake up most nights damp with sweat, heart pounding with worry, and made him forget that he had ever wanted to rebuild his family, to remarry, to perhaps one day have a child to call his own just like any other man.


	7. Wicked Years

Just like the classic Western nursery rhyme, when the boy was good, he was very good, but when he was bad, he was horrid. His clever mind was a whetstone upon which he sharpened his silver tongue and his mockery and jests began to show signs of a bitter, restless edge on them. It was on this quest to test his limits that he almost swept both of their lives away with his boyish recklessness.

The fruits of his deviousness manifested one black night. The royal guards beat down Nadir's door, put him in chains without explanation, and dragged him to a holding cell. On his way to his new accomodations, he caught a glimpse of a familiar masked face in an adjacent cell. Nadir felt - for the first time but not the last - a surge of anger shoot through his core. He wanted to take the child by his shoulders and shake him good and hard, ask him what foolish thing he had done that would now cost them their lives, but it was practically pointless.

Dragged before the shah like a common criminal, Nadir finally heard the charges against him. The boy had been caught running loose in the palace, hours after he was supposedly locked up tight in his apartment. The fear was of a dangerous monster roaming the palace grounds, hunting for royal blood. No matter how loyal he had proven himself time and time again, they still considered him an opportunistic and malicious animal. To Nadir, it just showed him the truth of their hearts for there was no one at court as devoted as this child. Of course, Nadir hadn't neglected his duty; there just wasn't a lock that could keep the devil imprisoned. No doubt he had been out quite a few times without anyone being the wiser and had just been stupid enough this time to get caught.

Life in proximity to the throne was precarious. People fell out of favor, suffered exile and execution for imagined crimes simply because someone with the shah's ear disliked them. The boy was valuable - especially as the princess' preferred pet - but Nadir was expendable and he knew it. The child would be spared, perhaps given a lashing or imprisoned in a cell like a criminal. Nadir could lose his head - or worse, fall prey to the princess' darkest desires and bloodlust. If the boy didn't understand the politics of palace life before, whatever would befall Nadir would serve as a very grim lesson.

The boy was brought before the shah, encircled by chains, swords at his throat, a smile on his lips. Oh, that wicked smile was terrifying! He began by laughing in the shah's face and continued holding nothing back from there on - and it bought them their freedom.

He belittled his guards, made light of his incarceration, had the nerve to chastise the shah for not believing in his loyalty, and finally confirmed what everyone knew - he dropped the manacles from his hands, proving he could only be chained at his own insistence.

He continued, swords pressing now at his wrists, his valuable hands seconds away from being sliced clean from his body. His tongue kept dancing and his voice took on a strange, enchanting quality, seemingly buzzing in an area behind their eyes. The boy swore that he was only examining the architecture of the castle, dreaming of a new entertaining scheme for the shah. With his devil's face he pouted and preened, saying there weren't enough hours in the day for him to do his wondrous works for his master, and how awful it was that his appointed minder couldn't keep up with him.

Here is where he turned his attentions to Nadir...The boy flogged him with ridicule in front of all gathered, turned his acid wit on him and cut his pride to ribbons. This was far beyond any of his humorous insults or asides and Nadir felt, for once, that if he hadn't been bound and in front of an audience, he would love to wring the boy's scrawny neck.

After getting the shah laughing at the daroga's humiliation, the boy smoothly transitioned into a kind of aloof fondness, stating that Nadir was a bit of a fixture and he should be allowed to keep his post, that he was the only one the boy would consent to having on the other end of his leash.

Mollified and greatly amused, the shah gave a hearty chuckle and agreed, and Nadir was released from his bonds. Giving another of his mischievous laughs, the child took up the manacles once more and commanded he be escorted to his apartments where he swore to remain until summoned.

After conducting him to his apartments and removing the shackles and chains from the child, Nadir sank into a chair and mopped the cold sweat from his brow, contemplating whether or not he should - or even could - take the boy to task for this foolish act. Before he could gather his wits to even utter one syllable, he was struck dumb by the child's act of contrition.

He kneeled at Nadir's feet, head bowed, silent tears flowing under his mask and down his chin, a humbled criminal prepared to be guillotined. Slowly, gently, he patted his cool fingertips against the back of Nadir's hand, as soft as a kitten's paw and so lightly Nadir could scarcely feel it.

He whispered, "That was too close."

All of the anger rushed out of Nadir to see this great act of affection. There would be another day to explain how hazardous their position was in the eyes of those in power, how close they had come to losing their lives, but today wasn't the day. He bent down to embrace the boy but the child squirmed free and ran off to prepare a pot of tea. He remained silent as they drank and passed an immense box of French sweets - no doubt a gift from the princess that he had been hoarding for himself - across the table to Nadir, knowing they were his favorite.

Nadir prayed that would be the end of it, but the boy was too intelligent, too restless for any kind of peace to last. He was occupied for multiple months, keeping his promise to the shah of introducing new architecture to the palace, and set about turning the very noble and honest building into the devil's own playground. With a few modifications, he layered the walls to hear whispers and honeycombed the edifice with secret passages and trap doors, earning him the nickname "trap-door lover".

He claimed it was all for the royal family's safety, for them to slip away unnoticed and to listen for treasonous chatter among those who presented a faithful face at court. While this was certainly true, Nadir knew his charge better than to take what he said in this particular matter as honest truth and instead sensed the boy was inching closer to another bold act that could perhaps bring them to the brink of death once more. Surviving such a brush with disaster only made creatures such as he braver and Nadir could only pray that the boy remembered that this poor old policeman's own life was part of any risk he took!

It was a particularly hot summer a few years later where the fracture in his devotion to his master would deepen further. The sun hadn't quite set allowing the land too cool off and the humidity seemed to weigh their every step. Despite this oppressive heat, the princess demanded to take her tea in the garden and wanted her usual entertainment.

Nadir obediently escorted his charge and chained him to his usual post under a shady tree. As the eunuchs weren't there yet, Nadir was reluctant to leave, and paused to hear the boy warming up on his violin. Nadir was certain he could hear the child's voice now taking on a deep, rich tone, knew he would eventually sing like an angel, even more so than he already did. He was thankful he had been able to delay and distract the shah long enough for the child's voice to begin changing; his highness had been researching a rather unfortunate Italian method of preserving the light, boyish tone. There was too much already denied to this child; Nadir couldn't bear that too. Perhaps he'd recount this little favor when the boy was a bit older and they could have a laugh...

Just as he was about to touch his bow to the strings, the boy exclaimed, "Look who has come to visit!"

A cream-colored cat with dark brown points came trotting up to him, winding itself around and around his legs. How it found him out here was curious but not that unusual; the shah's cats sought the child out no matter where he was and often escaped their designated rooms to be with him.

The cat was one of two biting fixations he had, little obsessions that Nadir feared were working away at the crack in the boy's obedience.

One of the boy's hang ups had been a gift from the sultan of India. Other regents had heard of the shah's amusing pet and came from far and wide to witness the boy's incredible talents. Some brought criminals from their country to challenge the child's most murderous skills. Some even tried to buy him outright for increasingly exorbitant sums, yet the shah never relented. That, at least, appeased the child and gave him a strange sense of belonging.

The sultan was one of those that had brought condemned men to meet their end at the boy's hands. The boy had been positively lethal when he was younger and all skin and bones. As the years wore on, with his regular exercise and excellent meals, although he remained lean and lanky, he grew freakishly strong, almost having to hold back to prolong the entertainment in the ring. Nadir swore he almost was strong enough to crush a man's skull between his hands; perhaps by the time he was full-grown…

This honored guest also brought two gifts - one for the boy, the knowledge of the Punjab lasso which quickly became his preferred method of execution, and one for the shah, a fat, raw ruby that was such a dark, blood red it almost looked black. As the sultan was leaving, well entertained and awed by the child's talents, he pressed the enormous, uncut jewel into the shah's hand.

As he had done many times before, the shah tossed it to the child to make something of it. After giving it a bit of thought, he crafted a very handsome ring to sit upon the shah's smallest finger. He wondered, more than once and out loud, if he could keep it himself. After all, wasn't it a form of payment for his skills? The shah laughed and dismissed his request, but Nadir caught the boy's golden eyes fixating on the gem many times.

The other fixation was this cat, a gift from the emperor of Siam. The emperor heard that both the shah and the child loved cats and brought an example of a rare breed from their home country during his visit. The cat was an unruly terror, much to both the shah and child's amusement; the damned thing was loud and testy with those it didn't like and always finding a way to be disruptive and destructive. Like all other cats under Allah's eyes, it was immediately smitten with the boy and followed him wherever he went. This made the shah jealous, and in a petty act, when the child begged for the cat to be his own pet, to go with him to his own apartment when he retired for the evening, the shah denied him. While the boy claimed to understand, Nadir could tell it stuck in his mind like a piece of a sugared date trapped in between one's back teeth.

Whatever the shah may have wished, while the cat allowed him to bestow affection on it, the boy was the creature's true master and it always looked up at him with crossed blue eyes full of dedication. Nadir was baffled by the way the boy drew the animals to him but was glad for it. A cat didn't ask for endless musical performances or for him to run a sword through another human being or to spin countless stories; they only begged for attention and affection, of which the child had an abundance. Perhaps the boy would've taken a darker turn much sooner if he didn't have these outlets for the instincts of kindness and care that Nadir tried desperately to encourage in him.

Without her guards, without warning, the little princess came running into the garden, wailing at the top of her lungs, tearing the peaceful moment to shreds. She flung herself in front of the fountain at the center of the courtyard, just out of the boy's reach.

"It's horrible! It's horrible! I'll die, I'll die if I have to do it!" she screamed. Nadir hurriedly bowed and scraped and exited the garden as quickly as possible, averting his eyes from the sacred royal. The eunuchs who finally caught up with her highness gave him looks of understanding; she was uncontrollable and breaches of decorum like this were bound to happen.

The little princess was prone to fits like this over any minor inconvenience so Nadir didn't think much of her tears. It wasn't until the boy was returned to him grim, silent, and white faced that he suspected anything of it.

"The shah has decreed that she's to be married...He's found a suitable match for her, the wedding is within a month.."

Nadir wasn't surprised in the least. Although the shah was reluctant to let his most beloved child go, she had become increasingly unmanageable. A great deal of credit for that was owed to her incorrigible partner in crime. What started out as children's pastimes were quickly segueing into something more dangerous, socially and politically, especially as the age differences between them started narrowing. Before, the princess was like an older sister dragging a child behind her. Now that she was almost a woman and the boy was growing into a man, those differences were closing quickly and it didn't escape the shah's notice. Any childish infatuation on either side was just a powder keg waiting for one spark to blow the entire kingdom to pieces.

The princess had no love in her heart for anyone - perhaps not even her father - and any kind of affection she might hint at towards the child was just a way to keep grooming him as her devoted slave. Who knew if she would turn him loose, use him for political assassinations, take down her own father? Nadir wondered if she felt that he himself was an obstacle to the boy's devotion if she would poison the boy's heart against him…

And what would happen if the boy felt he had the right to act on anything she might be hinting at? He was getting to be of an age where he was noticing the women of the palace in a different way...Would he be strong enough to resist leaping at the chance to pursue feelings he felt were reciprocated, regardless of status?

Nadir had heard rumors of covert conversations, that the alcoves he had built for her to observe courtly life had whispering walls that allowed them to speak in secret. The devil knew how to throw his voice effortlessly, could already make his voice roam freely without moving his lips. What were they talking about? What other secrets had they been hiding?

There was the gossip that the princess had made an enamel pendant with a likeness of him, forged in secret lest her father found out, one side with his mask, the other without. That rumor was too much for Nadir to believe; if the boy had heard of it, would he be as shy as he had been?

And what would happen if she rebuffed him? Would there be enough eunuchs with enough yataghans in all of Persia to protect her from the wild bloodlust that sprung like an eternal fountain from the blackest depths of his heart, the darkness that she herself cultivated within him? This marriage was perhaps the best solution to the increasingly evident dangers and Nadir, for one, was glad for it.

"Well," Nadir said, keeping his cautious elation under control, "I suppose that was to be expected sooner or later…"

"One month! A suitable match!" The boy planted his chin in his palm and stared off into a corner of the room, no doubt trying to picture this unknown person. "Do you think I will be considered her property? Meaning do you think I will transfer to this 'suitable match's' house as part of her dowry?"

Nadir almost spit his tea out, covering his concern with a cough.

Ignoring him, the boy continued, "I suppose I will be asked to perform at this wedding. It might be my chance to make a good impression…"

The wedding feast was an incomparable affair that the shah had spared no expense for, a splendid celebration for his most beloved child. The boy held nothing back either, decorating the entire palace in a riot of loveliness and putting together hours and hours of entertainment - magic, song, performances, anything and everything. Unfortunately, his reputation preceded him and the shah's "suitable match", a perfectly average and monied young son of a well-regarded court fixture, was terrified of him. No matter what tricks or wonders or miracles the boy pulled, the princess' groom regarded him with a quietly controlled expression of healthy fear. There was no way he would accept the boy as part of a dowry and besides, the child was ultimately the shah's property, not the princess', and the shah was reluctant to let this purchase go.

The princess, dripping in jewels and swathed in robes worth more than the income of several entire provinces, sulked at her new husband's side, hatred simmering in her eyes. Things could've been much worse for her and yet she was ungrateful and miserable. The young man was fair looking enough, and only ten years her senior although she could've ended up with a man even older than her father. By being middle of the road and not expressing any sort of controversial opinion, he had secured good standing in court and no one had a bad word against him, so he was mostly safe from any kind of political manipulations. However, that mild attitude wouldn't stand up against the princess' ungovernable personality - but she was his problem now.

When it was all over, the princess departed with great fanfare to her new home, her malevolent influence following her out the door. She spared one last backwards glance towards her pet who she had to leave behind and then she was gone. As soon as the last glimpse of her faded away, the entire court seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief. To Nadir, it felt like a cleansing; to the boy, it felt like a void had opened up and swallowed him whole.

The shah had his moment of melancholy and then moved on to other amusements but the boy fell headlong into an acute depression. This oppressive mourning colored everything he did, seeped into every note he played, colored every work of art he crafted. The shah sent him away mid-performance more than once, unable to bear the sorrow woven into his music. Nadir prayed this sadness would lift, that he would find a new project to fall into, but months later, the boy remained silent, resigned, the ghost of his former tormentor still afflicting him.

Eventually, the child learned to hide his heartache well enough but the spark had left his eyes. Noticing this and taking pity on the poor creature, the shah, in an uncharacteristic moment of generosity, summoned him, asked him to kneel before him, and announced he would grant the child one wish.

The shah seemed ready to allow him anything. The boy could've asked to be allowed to walk without the chain on his neck. He could've requested to keep one of the cats that at that very moment were circling all around him, pressing their foreheads into him and begging for his affection. Perhaps he could've even asked for his freedom. Nadir had a moment of panic, wondering if he would ask to be sent to live with his preferred mistress.

But he didn't ask for any of those things.

After a moment of contemplation, he raised his eyes to the shah and made his request.

"I wish to build an addition on the palace, o shah-in-shah; a temple of pleasure crafted of the most exquisite materials, an edifice to your glory and to the splendor of this treasured nation. It will be the envy of all others, a beacon to draw all the eyes of the world…"


	8. Rosy Hours Return

The sun sank under the weight of the summer heat bathing the sky in a deep rosy pink bordering on blood red. The boy was practically vibrating with excitement but he forced himself to move with calm precision. Everything must be perfect; _she_ had returned! It was more than just a glimpse of her and her husband as they arrived by litter, more than a peek at her distant presence during the receiving feast - she had summoned him to the forbidden quarters! Oh, so many hours they had spent together in those secretive chambers, enjoying all of their amusing pastimes!

Five long years! Too long since he last had his preferred audience. The shah had kept him busy - and he had such an appetite for the boy's talents! - but nothing compared to her interest, to their shared passion. Their desires and inspirations cleaved so closely, it was hard to know who inspired the other first.

There was a soft knock on the door. If there was a way for such a perfunctory gesture to sound heavy with sadness, this knock would make a fine example.

"Come in, come in!" The boy was both annoyed and energized by the appearance of the chief of police and his voice couldn't hide it. Annoyed because Nadir was always so melancholy, always trying to be friendly in troublesome ways, energized because, by his escort's arrival, he was this much closer to being reunited with his kindred spirit.

"I apologize for not being ready to go yet; it must be later than I realized. I don't want to keep her waiting but..everything must be perfect - _I_ must be perfect! I wouldn't want to disappoint her, not after being separated for so long. Just sit over there while I finish up. I might need some help with my tie….my hands…" The boy held up his hands, both swollen, discolored, gnarled.

Nadir motioned to the guards outside of the doorway to wait. After closing the door, he sank into an overstuffed chair in the corner with another of his sad little sighs.

The room remained unlike any other room in the Persian palace, decorated in a Louis Phillipe style, overly fussy and fit for a tyrant of a child. It was so overdone, it had transcended into purely a parody of French fashion.

The oddest thing, though, was the dressing table where the boy sat, perched on the very edge of his chair. Where there should be a mirror was simply the blank backing, and it always drew the eye because of the expectation that there should be a reflection there.

The boy gazed into the blank space as if he could see himself, brushing his thinning hair. What remained of his hair, which was once moderately thick and such a dark chestnut it was almost black, was now streaking grey and falling out in patches. There was no more thick cover to brush over the side of his worst deformity, to hide the exposed skull. Perhaps he would be completely bald in just a few more summers...There didn't seem to be a curse regarding his appearance the poor devil ever escaped!

The boy plucked the strands of hair from the brush and stuffed them into a hair receiver on the tabletop, saving it for another of his projects. To the side of the receiver was the work in progress the strands were destined for: a wig he was meticulously building from his collection.

Besides the hair receiver, there was a complete women's vanity set laid out before him made of delicate, almost translucent porcelain with roses painted on the sides resting on a mirrored tray. He was curiously vain in certain respects...There was a container full of white powder that he sometimes applied to his face, most often when he wore a white half mask. Today, he had lined his eyes with kajal and stained his lips an unnatural dark pink, drawing the attention to his mouth. Just as with the hair on his head, his eyebrows and eyelashes were falling out, leaving them scarce, jagged, and greying. To make up for this deficiency, he used henna to create semi-permanent eyebrows.

"My tie, daroga, if you please." He stood, lifting up his chin a bit. Nadir rose from his chair, walked over to his charge, and adjusted the white tie.

"Let's see, let's see!" the boy hurriedly grabbed a small handheld mirror from the table. Holding it at an angle and at a distance so as to avoid seeing his face straight on, he caught sight of the crisp bowtie. "Ah, perhaps you're useful after all," he said with a smirk, pleased with the old man's handiwork. The daroga's face hovered over the boys' shoulder in the reflection, his expression softening into a familiar browknit disappointment that irked the boy at what was the cusp of a happy reunion.

"That face of yours - I loathe it!" the boy spat, rounding on him. "You great booby - don't imagine I don't know what you're thinking. You should be happy for me!"

His hands were already halfway useless and starting to pulse with pain again as he balled them into angry fists.

Exhaling sharply, the boy tried to lift this useless black mood that had begun to creep into the corners of his mind. He would be happy - so happy! - in mere moments; why bother with this useless man's simpering and sighing?

Unable to contain his thoughts any further, Nadir exclaimed, "By Allah, she has no heart to give you! Surely you can see - "

"That's treasonous. I could have your head for saying such a thing about the princess!" The boy's cutting, menacing glare silenced Nadir. He had threatened him many times before - and had the power to carry out his threat - yet he never followed through. One day, perhaps he would, especially if he fell under the princess' influence...

He burst into a malicious little chuckle. "Daroga, you are positively _indecent_! Did you suspect that of _me_? That _I_ would be _romantically infatuated_ with _her_? Perish the thought; I know my place." He turned from Nadir, smoothing what remained of his hair with broken hands that still retained their elegance. "You say she has no heart...yet she loves me."

"As a farce! They... _she_ ridicules you!" Nadir gestured at the boy's fine dress clothes, a French gentleman's neat and clean white tie and tails that stood out in the Persian court.

The boy stiffened. "The shah has provided for me. He has given me a home. He has given me an education. _She_ has given me a name!"

"A name!" Nadir scoffed. "'Monsieur' is not a name. It's a joke."

"It is more than my blessed mother gave me."

"And this home...perched in a high tower so tall it would be suicidal to climb down, with locks on the front door. It's no home; it's a cage."

"A cage! Yes!" the boy's temper was roiling within him. "You and I both know I could climb out if I wanted and I've already picked the locks on the front door. I know it's a cage and I don't care! Besides, daroga, there are worse cages, are there not? Do you recall the one you found me in so many years ago? Which cage would you prefer for yourself?" The boy winced; he had involuntarily clenched his hands in anger again and they throbbed mightily. This didn't escape Nadir's notice.

"And that?" Nadir nodded towards the boy's hands. "Is that how you deserve to be treated?"

The boy fumed. "Yes, yes, it is. I did a bad thing, and worst of all, I got caught. I would do the same thing in the shah's position!"

Nadir shook his head. "You are so intelligent, so talented. You could be anything you put your mind to. Your behavior was pathetic as a child, it's positively shameful at your age! You could be a great man…"

"A man!" The boy gave a great barking laugh. "A _man_! I could walk the earth as anyone else, can I? Just like this?" He rounded on Nadir, slipping quickly in front of him like a snake, thrusting his grotesquely made up face before him. His appearance didn't bother Nadir one bit, didn't get the reaction the boy was accustomed to. That only soured his mood further. What a great pain in the ass old Nadir was!

He turned from him and grabbed a black silk mask from the table top."Out in the world, I am a monster, a freak, a thing. Not afforded a moment of peace, not accorded even the smallest gesture of kindness. In here, I am a pet. Although I am still a freak, still put aside, still considered an animal, I am treated well. You said I could be anything I put my mind to; then I put my efforts into being an exceptional pet." He slid the mask over his face. "This is how I shall be loved for my own sake."

Nadir's brow furrowed. "You could do better than that."

"Better? I am excelling here! The shah allows me to be an artist." the boy brought over a strange object from his workbench, hidden by a heavy draped cloth.

"An artist! The shah had asked for less music and more blood lately. They have made you a murderer."

The boy glanced at Nadir through narrowed eyes. "There is art even in the taking of lives…"

"And this project you're consumed with...the shah's playground…is that art?"

"Ah! What fun we shall have, playing there! We shall pass many, many rosy hours there!" the boy's eyes were alight with unholy glee. "That is for later - for tonight, I have another sculpture I have been crafting ever since I heard _she_ was coming back. You are the first to see it, so count yourself lucky, daroga." He whipped the cloth from his creation with a flourish and Nadir had to gasp.

It was a mask - and what a mask! There were many glorious splendors in the palace of the king and surely this concept would take its place among those myriad treasures. The face itself was covered in brilliant gold. The jaw, which looked like a skull's, was set down in an infernal yawn the better to accommodate the huge, sharp teeth, each one made out of a faceted, pointed diamond. From the top and sides, asymmetrical horns sprouted in various directions, like a Jacob's ram. The boy lowered the mask over his head slowly, adjusting it until it was perfectly positioned. Nadir's heart sank; the boy's eyes shone like fire from under the sculpted gold brows. His grin, ringed by his darkened lips and full of a sort of evil joy, showed within the cage of diamond teeth. His smile was never a happy thing or pleasant to see. Although his teeth had been spared the curse of his face, lined like perfect straight pearls, his grin was a portent of wickedness to come.

This mask was exactly the sort of gruesome thing the princess adored.

"What do you think, daroga? You're speechless, eh?"

"...I must confess it is a work of art," Nadir shrugged.

The boy took a deep breath. "I'm ready. Let's get on with our bit of unpleasant business."

Nadir brought out a pair of manacles, polished and gleaming bright. He held out his hands and allowed Nadir to clamp them down on him, a necessary ritual that would allow him passage to the inner chambers of the harem.

They left the incongruous French style apartment and made their way to the women's quarters, the boy flanked by guards and led by the beleaguered chief of police. He strode through the palace, as proud as any of the shah's peacocks. His mask drew many eyes, caused many to gasp and draw back in fear, yet it made him feel beautiful, made him only anticipate the sweet reunion before him.

Nadir handed the boy off to the eunuchs that guarded the women's quarters and they led him to a small room to wait until he was announced and allowed inside. It was forbidden for men to enter the perfumed world of soft silks and satins, the mysterious land of women's whispers, but as the boy wasn't a man, only a pet, he was granted certain liberties. Just when he thought he couldn't wait another moment and was close to simply rushing through the doors, the eunuchs collected him and marched him inside.

There she was - perched on a pile of pillows, a fragrant hookah at her side. She had changed much in the five years that separated them. Motherhood was becoming on her; at her wedding, she was a thin wisp of a girl but now, after bearing two children, her body had grown more sensual and soft, all warm, sweet curves. Her mind, no doubt, was probably as icy and sharp as ever.

The boy kneeled at a respectful distance, trying to contain the building energy within him. Cruelly, she ignored him for a moment more, even as all of her slaves and the other women of the harem shrank away from his terrifying appearance, murmuring as they went. Slowly, she turned her eyes to him, eyes as green and as cold as brilliant emeralds.

"How can I deny you any longer? Come here, my pet!" she said, dropping her pipe and gesturing for him to come forward.

"My mistress!"

The eunuchs sneered in disgust at the shameless way the boy threw himself on the floor, groveled before her.

"Oh, Monsieur, it's been too long, far too long! Oh, my precious little French gentleman!" She placed her hands on the sides of his mask and lifted his face to her. "By Allah! You are the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on!"

"Do you like it? I've made it just for you!"

She nodded, stroking her thumbs over the gold cheekbones. He swore he could almost feel her caressing his face directly under the mask and he shuddered with pleasure.

"My, my! You're so grown now! I can't believe how tall, how big and strong you are...you've become a man in my absence!"

"But I am still your pet, your majesty…"

"How I wish you were still mine...I begged my husband to let you come live with us but he's such a waste, all he's good for is getting me with child, damnable things they are!" No one but the shah's favorite would ever be able to speak of husbands and children in this way. Some of the ladies present who had never heard her say such things before were scandalized and drew their veils around themselves, trying to ward off such blasphemy. "He doesn't appreciate the arts like I do, like we do…" She continued stroking his mask, speaking low and intimately as if they were the only two people in the world. Her eyes locked with his, her reptilian gaze practically hypnotizing him. "Yes, I wish you were still my pet...but I've heard you've been keeping daddy amused."

"Yes, my lady!"

"I've heard you've installed more hidden passageways for him to scurry through the palace, my trap-door lover..." Her softly spoken words were like a caress.

"You would hardly know they were there, your infinite grace!"

"Daddy tells me you're making him a whole playground full of wonders, a place for you to perform for us…"

"Your eminence, it is beyond compare - my finest work! It will be completed in just a month or two."

"Yes, that's why I begged to come back. My idiot husband's house is not as entertaining and I was dying - simply dying! - of boredom. I can't wait to see what you have in store for us."

"Oh, mistress - I have a chamber of mirrors that will produce the most incredible illusions and we can watch without being seen! The person inside slowly goes mad until -"

"Stop - don't give it all away; I want to be surprised."

The boy sat up straighter. "Does that mean you're staying until it's completed?"

"Just until the end of summer," she answered. "Perhaps I can convince my worthless husband to stay later."

The boy's heart thrilled to hear it. "I shall make every day better than the next! I swear it! Every day, I will entertain you, so many beautiful things I will show you - "

"Yes," the princess purred. "I hear you've much improved in the five years I was gone. Daddy has given you free reign to study and create and do whatever you want...well, almost."

A lump leapt into his throat and he tried his best to swallow it down. As the conversation turned, her eyes seemed to penetrate down to his bones.

"I heard…" She held his face firmly in her hands, knowing she'd caught him out and enjoying the power that knowledge held. "...you tried a new trick, one that daddy didn't approve of."

He nodded quickly, admitting his guilt without hesitation.

"They say that besides your clever ventriloquism that you have a new weapon in your arsenal - hypnotism. Daddy told me you used your beautiful voice and put a spell on one of our little slaves...that you tried to put your mouth on her, tried to kiss her...that when you did so, you stopped singing...and she realized what was happening…" A sinister smile played on her lips. "...and she screamed and screamed."

The boy struggled a bit in her grasp. Her touch completed the current of a new and disturbing electricity between them. He wasn't certain what this fresh and alarming feeling was winding itself around his mind, his heart, his gut, everywhere.

"It was...a terrible lapse in judgement...a mistake…She was the shah's property…I am a terrible thief, but a repentant one..."

"My poor pet...You've become a man and now you want what men want from women…" She sneered, mocking him. "You're so disgusting." She pushed him away.

"I know my place!" the boy swore loudly, desperately. "I am just a pet...just an animal…"

Not finished, she continued, her voice purring with delight. "Daddy wasn't happy, was he? He thumped you across the throat so hard you couldn't speak let alone sing. I heard he personally broke your hands - and you're fortunate he didn't cut them off. I heard he threw you in the dungeon...Luckily, he cares for you like I do and he brought you back out after a few days. Daddy knows you're too valuable to hurt so badly over such a silly thing, sweet pet."

The boy visibly squirmed, upset to relive the memory. He had spent so many years being the shah's favorite; this sudden act of savagery from someone he trusted with his life, who had been so good to him for so long, had shattered him, scared him. She gingerly pulled the chains of his manacles to raise his sore and swollen hands up to her face.

"It would be a shame to damage such talented hands...what a pity!" She quickly grabbed one of the horns protruding from his mask and swiveled his head to look at the ladies of the harem. "Which one was it?"

Before the boy could say anything, the girl betrayed herself by almost dropping a tray she was holding. All of the ladies turned to stare at her and under the glare of so many eyes, she trembled, rooted to the spot.

"Come here, girl!" the princess barked, pointing to the ground before her. The hapless slave girl, shaking from head to toe, silently walked through the crowd of women who watched her with sympathetic and fearful faces. She meekly prostrated herself before her mistress and her owner's terrible toy, afraid to meet their gaze.

The princess jabbed her hand under the girl's chin and roughly yanked her head up. "So - this is the one that captured your fancy, Monsieur? She's very pretty…"

The girl's dark eyes overflowed with fat tears, dripping onto the tiles before them. To see the girl so terrified, the boy felt as if there was a hand around his heart, crushing it. He had caused plenty of pain in the many rosy hours under the shah's care, dredged up endless tortures from the darkest vault of his soul and contrived terrible deaths, but to see this girl in agony because of something shamefully foolish he had done was suddenly more than he could bear.

"My sweet Monsieur suffered for you and all he wanted was a kiss. We almost lost his great talent because of you. I want you to kiss his hands." The princess grabbed the girl's shoulder and pushed her towards the boy. "Go on, Monsieur - give her your hands and she'll give you your kiss."

Perhaps too eagerly, the boy thrust his hands forward. The girl shrieked and reeled back, falling onto her side with a great sob. Startled, the boy shrank back in fear, but the princess' anger burst into full bloom. Her flawless face contorted into a mask of inhuman rage, her thick black brow deeply furrowed.

"How DARE you?! How dare you disobey me, how dare you refuse to service my pet that has endured so much pain for want of a kiss?!" Like a snake, the princess whirled on the slave girl who was now wailing at the top of her lungs. She issued the same scream when he had tried to kiss her, and it seemed to still echo in his mind from that moment.

The princess snatched up a heavy silver candlestick and flung the candle to the floor. The slave girl quickly raised her arms to her face but it hardly mattered. The princess brought the candlestick down again and again; the first few times were body blows, the last time straight on the girl's head. There was a wet crunch and girl's cries stopped at once.

The abnormal and peculiar sensation that started earlier in the evening cascaded within the boy, washing away all logic. He wasn't certain what it meant but he abandoned himself to the flood, allowed himself to be swept away at once. The world felt like it was closing off, that there was only he and she, locked in a moment that extended into infinity. He drank in the princess' glory, her splendor - standing above the girl who now seemed to be nothing more than a crumpled heap of silk. The princess' chemise and skirt were speckled with sprays of bright red blood. She was flushed from the exertion of her action, her revenge - revenge she took in his name! He noted he was panting, breathing hard in rhythm with her.

"Clean this up," she said to her eunuchs, dropping the candlestick on the floor next to the girl's body. She fixed her icy eyes on him, lancing him straight through.

"Did that excite you, my pet?" she said silkily, advancing on him slowly, sensually. Breaking into a haughty laugh, she delivered a vicious kick so his side. "You disgust me!"

With a moan, he rolled over onto his stomach, throbbing with pain. Why was it suddenly so hot in the inner sanctum? The gold plated mask felt so heavy, the black silk mask underneath growing damp. It was so stifling - sweat poured down his neck, down his stiff white collar.

The princess grabbed his mask by the horns again, forcing him to sit upright and face the women huddled in the corners of the room.

"My sweet innocent little animal...you wouldn't know what to do with her if you had her anyways…" Holding fast to his mask, she whispered in his ear, "Do you want to know? You might've figured out a thing or two about the basics, but there is so much more beyond a kiss. Do you know what my husband and I do, what things he asks of me, what things I am obliged to perform?" She pulled him closer, pouring intimate secrets directly into his ear, unveiling details he couldn't have imagined. The women of the harem stared on in horror, shrank from the two shining golden eyes that were now alight with untold knowledge; they were witnessing a new, terrifying door being unlocked.

The princess finally released him and he sank back onto his elbows, breathing hard. His mind was reeling with images and ideas he didn't understand but grasped on a primal level underneath his rational mind. And it was so bloody hot in the room, practically sweltering! All he wanted was to strip his mask away and press his bare face to the cool tiles.

"You're so vile, so wretched! More hideous than any of those leering men who make our lives a living hell." She brought her heel down hard on his stomach. "You sicken me." He groaned and once more rolled onto his side, ablaze with shame. She smirked, drinking in his pain as if it were the sweetest nectar. "My pet, I have many new ladies here from my husband's house who haven't seen your...talents. Let's start with some music and then maybe we'll show them the work of art Allah has written on your face." She turned to a nearby eunuch. "Bring him his little French violin."

"My lady…" the boy said, his voice meek and trembling with pain. "...my hands are not yet -"

"Please me, pet," she said, pressing her dainty, hennaed foot squarely between his shoulders, pinning him to the floor. "Please me."

When Nadir came to collect him, the boy was quivering with agony, his hands red and angry. Nadir saw this and broke with his orders, refusing to put the manacles on him. Once it was just the both of them back in the boy's cell, he asked for ice to be brought up from the yakhchal and helped the pitiful creature wash up and change into more comfortable clothing, helped remove the gold-plated mask and the black silk undermask, now drenched with sweat. Only when the ice had been brought up and the servants were dismissed did Nadir broach the subject he was burning to discuss.

"What happened in there? She's hardly been here a day and already destroyed you…"

The boy brought his face up from the the basin of cold water and ice he had been cooling his hands and head in. His makeup ran down his deformed face creating a ghoulish, abstract image.

"Not destroyed...not yet…."

The boy gave details to fill in the bits and pieces that had already filtered out of the harem. When the eunuchs removed the body of the poor slave girl, bludgeoned to death, the whispers ran wild. Nadir listened gravely as the boy told him of the little slave girl's grisly end.

Then there was the musical torture inflicted on him - first being forced to play the violin, on and on until his fingers bled and his hands froze up, unable to eke out one more note. Not satisfied, the princess forced him to sing until his throat was raw, denying him even a single sip of water as the hours wore on. Finally, she released him from his duties, but she left him with one last cruelty - even if he didn't see it as such.

"Daroga, she said she is staying through the summer. The playground will be finished in the next month and she wanted to see it! My hands need just a few weeks more and they'll be much better. And the best thing, Daroga, the best thing - my lady said she felt bad for me about that shameful incident - terrible, nasty business! - and she has a present to reward me for my hard work."

The boy licked his lips, savoring the moment before revelation. Nadir's breath was caught in his throat; this gift could be nothing good.

"When we open the new addition, she will hold a feast in my honor - and she will find me a bride! It is to be a wedding feast!"

Nadir's heart sank. This could only end badly. The boy was smiling with delight and triumph, an ill portent to be certain.


	9. A Glimpse Of Eternity

Nadir could already smell the perfume wafting down the long stairway leading up to boy's room. He knocked as usual and waited for a reply before unlocking the many locks on the door. The sweet smell hit him like a wave the second he opened the door.

"Good evening, daroga." The boy was standing in the center of his apartment that was filled floor to ceiling with myriad flowers. Where there weren't flowers, there were colorful lanterns each lit with twinkling candles. All of his frightening and strange masks were put away and on any inch of free surface, a book was opened to a lovely illustration, mostly those of romantic fairy tales. Nadir had to admit to himself that if he were a woman, he would most definitely be impressed. He couldn't imagine a greater effort made to woo a lady, let alone whatever poor slave the princess had found for this scheme.

"Maybe we should allow a breeze to come in, it's a little stuffy in here…" Nadir opened a window, allowing some of the flowery scent to flow out of the room. "You look...very nice."

The boy was wearing his half mask and it seemed that he had sewed some jet bead accents to his tuxedo. The newest addition to his ensemble was his completed wig, dark brown in color just like the hair he had when he was a child, and slicked down with fragrant oil.

"I asked if I could wear regular clothing since it's a regular wedding, but her majesty insisted I dressed in the French style, as usual." He fiddled nervously with a few of the flowers that he had attached with ribbons to the posts on his bed.

"You've made quite an impressive effort. I'm sure the girl will find it beautiful…"

"I know what she will think. She will expect to be locked in a cell with a bloodthirsty madman. What else could she have heard about me?"

"Well, now...you're an exceptional musician. And you magic tricks are beyond compare - "

" - yes but that isn't exactly what I am famous for." The boy softly sighed, smoothing out the colorful bedspread. Then, in an optimistic tone, he said "But! She is a slave, like I am - ! She must understand that slaves must do what their masters tell them to! So she will understand me, she will see that I am not a mindless monster! Daroga, you know me - " He darted forward and grasped Nadir's sleeve. "I wouldn't harm anyone like her, especially my bride! I am as gentle as a lamb!"

Nadir nodded. "Yes, yes, that's true."

Satisfied with his response, the boy dropped his sleeve and his hands began to nervously knit themselves together. "She will understand my situation, and I will be so gentle with her, I will be very sweet to her! It's a difficult custom, to marry someone, sight unseen, isn't it? But if it works for others, I'm certain, with enough effort, it can work for us!" He brought his trembling hands to his face, his eyes focusing on some distant future. "She will learn to trust me, in time...she will learn that although I must do such thing as I must do for my master that I, myself, am no monster, that I can be very accommodating and kind! And then, after some time has passed, maybe she will grow used to me...maybe she will even like me!" The boy's voice was trembling with emotion now. "One day, she will like me enough to maybe call me her liver! And I will call her my mouse! And maybe, she will even give me a normal man's name...she won't want to call me 'Monsieur' all the time, will she? Think of it - maybe she will call me something ordinary like Farhad or Hamid or Ramin…" He dissolved into a fit of nervous giggling. Nadir's heart felt heavy in his chest. The picture the boy painted was very pretty, but Nadir knew that whatever the princess had a hand in never ended well.

"Do you know," Nadir asked slowly, cautiously, " what husbands and wives do together?"

"Yes, yes, I know all about that, I know." The boy looked away and fussed with more of the flowers. "Her majesty told me all about that. I'm sure my bride expects that of me, and everyone out there - " he waved his hand in the general direction of the main area of the palace. " - thinks that I will be a villain and pounce on this girl. She will already be terrified of me enough and as I said, I am no animal, I won't harm one hair on her head. Although she will be locked up in here with me for our wedding night, I wouldn't dare touch her without her consent! I am a gentleman after all. She may have the bed all to herself and I will sleep on the floor or just sit in this chair right over here and she will see that I am not a terrible beast." The boy turned to Nadir with hopeful yet hurt eyes. "You don't expect that of me, daroga, do you?"

Nadir quickly shook his head no. "Of course not! Don't I know you better than anyone else? I know you are a very thoughtful, very kind person."

The boy bowed his head, obviously moved by Nadir's reassuring words. Had he ever been called a person before?

"Maybe…" he said, his voice very small, very hopeful. "Maybe one day - not today, not any time soon, but one day - she will be so used to me...she will like me so much that she might...maybe she might…" he covered his face with his hands, his cheeks flushing crimson, a hesitant yet true smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "...maybe she might give me a kiss!"

Nadir felt as if the entire earth collapsed from under him. To see this innocent at the edge of what was sure to be a cruelly orchestrated disaster, to know that this pure soul teetered at the brink of catastrophe and being unable to pull him back was too much for him to bear. He would rather be escorting the boy to his own execution.

"Well...I imagine you have to chain me up now. I asked her highness if we could do away with this bit of business for today but she refused." The boy presented his wrists to Nadir, ready for the manacles. "Let's get on with it."

"Ah - there's the man of the hour!" The princess descended upon Nadir and the boy the moment they set foot in the hall where the wedding was to take place. As it was one of the few occasions men and women could mix, there was a good crowd of the shah's favorites waiting for them. The shah himself was there and nodded towards them with a strange, knowing smile that set Nadir on edge and almost distracted him from making the appropriate genuflections.

The princess' husband was there as well. He looked as if he had aged ten years in the last five, no doubt from trying to tame his wicked wife, and he wore the same frozen expression of polite wariness that he reverted to any time the boy stepped foot in a room. The boy had been nothing but pleasant around him, performed for him many times, but there was no shaking the fear the man felt.

Nadir understood his situation quite well because while he was outwardly calm and pleasant towards the princess, he was absolutely afraid of her. Being in such close proximity to her, to be so close to those soulless eyes that pierced through anything they landed on, gripped him with a deep terror.

She fixed those keen eyes on the boy's wig. "What is this?"

"I thought...it would help me look my best, your majesty," he answered. "I know my bride will be nervous to meet me and I wouldn't want to be anything other than as perfect as I can be. If I may ask a favor, my lady - "

Here, her eyes narrowed, sensing an opportunity to inflict misery. "Go on…"

"May I please go without these?" He raised his manacled hands. "My bride will believe I am chained up because I mean to do her harm...You know I will be on my best behavior, I don't need these at all!"

The princess twirled the edge of her veil, considering his request. "It's either you go without these - " she said, pulling at the chains. " - or this." She tapped his hair and his mask. Faced with those two options, he lowered his hands. She giggled. "What's wrong? Ashamed of having grey hair like your daddy?"

His head snapped up. "He's not my father - !"

Nadir felt ice water cascading inside of him. The boy had made a miscalculation, had mistakenly shown emotion in front of this dangerous woman. Her eyes blazed with malicious delight.

The boy glanced at Nadir, the realization of his error plain on his face. After a second, a cold and distant expression came over him, and in an effort to make a smooth recovery, he added, "He's more of a grandfather - or even a great grandfather, isn't he? He's so old and decrepit…"

She smirked, then nodded her head towards the spread set out in the middle of the room. "Come along, little pet - leave grandpa behind and let's look at all of the lovely things I've prepared for you! Are you pleased?" She pulled him away from Nadir's custody and brought him to a low table covered with sweets,spices, painted eggs, golden coins, and other assorted symbolic treasures.

"...I am utterly humbled by the effort you've made for a creature such as myself…"

"You always had such a sweet way with words!" She threw back her head, laughing once more. "Oh, I've been dreaming of this day ever since my own wedding...I thought of you, my poor, lonely pet, how nice it would be for you to have a little companion…Here - take a seat," she said, pointing him towards a pile of cushions at the head of the table. As he sat, she hovered over his shoulder, whispering in his ear.

"Do you like the candles and the mirror, my pet? I picked it out for you especially. You will see your new bride's face there soon and you'll both gaze into eternity together…"

"It's...a lovely mirror, my lady! I am honored, truly…"

"You're trembling! Poor thing! Your darling bride was shaking head to foot last night as we had our henna party for her. It was almost impossible to draw the lines on her, the way she was quaking. Oh, I hope you like her - I thought she was just perfect for you."

The boy bowed his head and mumbled a few words of gratitude, overwhelmed by nerves.

"We'll begin soon - let me go check on your little bride." Never had the princess looked more girlishly gleeful than when she skipped off to join the bridal party in the next room over.

Nadir usually abstained from alcohol in accordance with his faith, and even at events such as these when rules loosened and wine flowed he typically didn't drink, but tonight he accepted a cup of arrak to steady his nerves. Usually, a groom would be surrounded by his friends and family in celebration but as the boy had no one other than Nadir, he sat alone, his hands clenched in his lap in an effort to control his nerves. Nadir heard snippets of conversation floating around, speaking of the boy as if he were an animal in a zoo, talking as if this was just another performance. The whole affair made Nadir sick, and no matter how deep he went in his cup, he couldn't shake a building pressure right over his heart.

Finally, the bridal party made their highly anticipated appearance. With great fanfare, the princess and her retinue led the slave girl's procession. First, a slave carrying cleansing incense entered the room, dispersing the influence of the evil eye. Next came the bride, flanked by the princess and some of her ladies, followed by a few other slaves. The girl was dressed in finery that must've come from the princess herself; exquisite robes and a colorful veil edged in gold accents, fine jewelry at her wrists, ankles, fingers, ears, and around her neck.

Nadir had seen the condemned walk to their execution with more spirit than this poor child. While the boy locked eyes on her the moment she stepped foot in the room, she kept her chin to her chest, moving so slow the princess had to prod and pull her. With a whimper, she was pushed to the floor and forced to sit next to the boy. Those gathered watched with anticipation, laughing quietly and whispering amongst themselves. Only the slaves watched with restrained fear and a hint of relief, happy that it wasn't them seated at his right side. To see the expression of innocent eagerness on the boy's face, the shy excitement, made Nadir deeply uneasy yet he wondered if he himself had gazed on his own wife like that when they were married. He hoped so.

The princess and her ladies held a green canopy above the couple as the shah himself read a few lines of poetry. As he recited the romantic verses of love and devotion, the princess sprinkled sugar down on them, showering the couple in symbolic sweetness. There wasn't a favored attendant at this incredible ceremony except for the princess herself who received such honored treatment.

When it came time to give consent to marriage, the boy quickly answered yes. It was typically the custom for the bride to hesitate and draw out her response, to tease the groom and add a bit of fun to the proceedings. There was no joy for the slave girl in this ritual and she remained silent out of fear and reluctance.

"Well?" the princess asked. "Do you consent?"

The bride didn't answer, only kept her eyes pointed at the floor.

"She's gone to serve in the haram," shouted an older woman from the crowd.

"You don't want to be married to this noble French gentleman?" The princess asked once more, a devious smile on her lips. Again, the bride remained quiet.

"She's gone to serve in the royal bedchamber!" a man called out, causing laughter to ripple around the room. The only ones not laughing besides Nadir and the boy were the slave girls sitting in grim attendance.

The girl finally spoke, her voice so soft that one had to strain to hear her. "As my mistress commands, I...must consent." The princess led her ladies in a loud cheer.

"Go on, monsieur - lift her veil and look at your bride in the mirror!" The princess prodded him along, unable to contain her excitement.

With trembling hands, he gently took the edge of her veil and slowly lifted it over her head. Turning to face the mirror, he laid eyes on his bride for the first time. The girl had a plain but natural beauty about her but for the ceremony, she had been painted with rosy cheeks, berry-stained lips, and her eyebrows had been drawn so that they were connected at the center. She was around the boy's age, no older than 17 at most, possibly younger, and she looked back in the mirror with wide brown eyes filled to the brim with fear.

"You know," the princess said, sidling up to the boy like a snake. "Only ladies cover their face in our country. It's not fair that you hide from your wife. Show her what she will see for the rest of eternity!"

Cruelly, quickly, she snatched both the half mask and the hair piece away from the boy's head, revealing his deformity. Seeing him in the mirror, the girl gave a strangled scream and pitched backwards into a dead faint. The entire hall erupted in mad laughter at the boy's expense, none louder than the princess herself. Nadir jumped to his feet yet caught himself before he intervened; he was completely helpless to do anything. He sank back in his seat and watched as the boy turned to face the princess, hurt and betrayal for once in his eyes. This only made the princess laugh harder.

After enjoying her heartless trick, she handed his mask and wig back to him. "Bring her back, Monsieur! Poor dear got too excited!"

He took a moment to compose himself and adjust his hair and mask and then quickly turned his attention to the girl. Gently, he touched her shoulder, whispering in her ear until she roused once more. Once she was fully conscious again, he helped her to sit up. She was shaking harder than ever now, her eyes wide and wild.

"There we are! She's alright!" The princess said, eliciting a bit of applause from those watching. "Let's seal this union with a kiss! Go on, Monsieur...Kiss your beautiful wife."

The boy was more aware than ever of all of the eyes upon him and was flushed with embarrassment, yet he was compelled to obey his mistress. Acting as a gentleman and with a light touch, he took her hand in his. He brought the hennaed hand to his lips but before he could deliver his kiss, the girl, acting out of an instinctive terror, quickly clawed him across the face. The entire room collectively gasped and even the musicians stopped playing. The girl's face drained of all color, realizing that she had lashed out at someone she assumed was a remorseless killer. This moment energized the princess, and she watched with unbridled joy, waiting to see the boy snap. The boy paused for a moment, beads of blood welling from the slashes on his cheek, before drawing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbing at his face.

" _Pardonnez-moi_ ," he mumbled, turning away from her.

The princess took him by the shoulders, locking her eyes with the slave girl. "Oh, monsieur, this is why I especially chose her for you...She has such spunk, such a unique personality, I couldn't think of anyone better for an individual such as yourself! She's given me many ideas during her service, and I thought this would be a fitting match…"

A look of realization came over the girl's face as if she finally understood that being beaten to death with a silver candlestick holder was a far better punishment than being married to a monster. Whatever she had done to displease the princess, this was how she would atone for her crimes. Silent tears began to flow down her cheeks, tears that didn't stop for the remainder of the reception.

The goblets were refilled with sweet wine before they ever emptied, each of the endless plates of food that was brought out were better than the ones before, and the band kept playing deep into the night. If it weren't for the fact that the couple at the center of the room was treated with less dignity than two fornicating monkeys at a zoo, one would almost mistake the elaborate set up for the wedding of a royal family member. The laughter grew louder, the pointing more obvious, the unkind conversations grew bolder, speaking of what untold horrors the poor girl supposedly faced on her wedding night as a bride to a beast. Nadir couldn't be bothered to speak to anyone, couldn't bear to eat a morsel of food, and had to even give up the wine as he was starting to feel very sick. Clammy sweat beaded on his brow, he could swear he felt the room spinning at times, and always there was pressure in his chest, growing in intensity, crawling up his chest, his arm, his jaw.

He watched the boy performing little magic tricks for the girl with a ring he had taken from one of her fingers. He made it walk across his knuckles, roll across his fingers, disappear and reappear within his hands, yet she remained silent and stone faced, all life drained out of her. The princess couldn't have enjoyed herself any more than she was and she led the festivities with unrestrained glee.

As if on cue, like the second half of the performance was beginning, the crowd grew very quiet.

The princess rose, her eyes glittering like two cold jewels. "We've had such a lovely night celebrating our special Monsieur...but before we all grow too tired, let's bid him and his new wife goodnight. Tomorrow is a big day, after all - we will finally see the beautiful new palace addition that he has built for us, and he has planned an entire day of entertainment."

At this, the girl gave a hiccuping sob which she quickly swallowed down. The boy rose and offered her a hand up but she remained seated, halfway crumpled to the floor.

The princess, perhaps loosened up from the wine, unleashed her temper. "Don't be rude - get up!" She darted forward, grabbed a handful of the girl's hair and yanked her to her feet.

"My lady - !" The boy spoke out against the princess' behavior for the first time in his entire life, something that caught the princess off guard.

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then composed herself. "I can't stand to see her misbehave. There's so much happiness here tonight…"

"...Yes, your majesty…" He gave her a small bow, satisfying her need for his subservience.

"Come along, daroga! You and your men should escort these two to their honeymoon suite…" The princess snapped her fingers in Nadir's direction and he dutifully came to collect his two charges. The crowd's eyes followed the two as they left the reception, laughter erupting as soon as the door closed behind them.

Nadir, a few guards, and the newlyweds walked to the boy's cell. The boy spoke gently and excitedly to his new wife in an attempt to put her at ease.

"You will see, I have a very charming apartment here, I think you will be quite happy with the arrangement, and I've decorated it especially for you…"

Nothing he said made any difference, and she walked as if she was going to her own execution.

At the top of the stairs, the boy darted forward. "Let me do it, daroga, let me do it this time!" The boy had stolen the keys to his cell out of Nadir's pocket and hurriedly unlocked each of the locks on the heavy door. The girl's eyes went wide seeing how many locks there were, realizing there was no hope of escape once the door closed.

"After you, my lady," the boy said as he held the door open for her. The girl didn't move, didn't understand his gesture as no one had ever held a door for her before. She stared, confused, into the room filled with flowers and lit with seemingly hundreds of blinking candles in multi-colored lanterns. One of the guards seized her by the shoulders and pushed her into the room, causing her to stumble and fall to the floor. The boy gave a cry of protestation and moved to help her to her feet but she shrieked and cowered away from him.

"Of course - it's the chains, my dear! You think that they're there because I am dangerous but they're merely decoration, just like any of your lovely bracelets! Daroga, if you please…" He held out his manacles for Nadir to remove them. His hands were shaking so severely, Nadir had a hard time getting the key into the lock.

As soon as he did, the boy rubbed his wrists, and gave a little nod. "Goodnight, old man. I will see you tomorrow morning for the grand opening of the palace's addition." He turned to face the girl, nervously wringing his hands. She remained huddled on the floor, staring up at her new husband with undisguised terror, even hatred. Nadir closed the door on this scene, turned the many keys in the many locks, and went to his own palace apartments.

Whether it was the wine or his nerves or everything else, Nadir ended up vomiting the moment he returned to his room and throughout the rest of the night. No matter how many times he went back to bed, he would find himself waking up from a restless sleep half an hour or so later, running to his bathroom and purging. The sounds of that evil woman's laughter echoed between his ears, and Nadir could swear he heard screams echoing across the palace courtyard, wails drifting through the halls, sobs drifting in the darkness.


	10. In The Maze Of Mirrors

Sunrise came before Nadir was ready. His mind was whirling from the previous night, had spent the entire evening in sickness. He decided to try to put himself together and go fetch his charge before the day's festivities began.

As he crossed over to the walkway at the foot of the tower where the boy was kept, he received a shock so severe, every muscle in his body tensed at once - the princess appeared before him as if out of thin air.

"My lady!" Nadir dropped to the floor in an immediate gesture of supplication before her. Out of the corner of his eye he noted she was alone...no guards, no ladies, no servants. That made her even more dangerous.

"Oh, daroga," she laughed. "I always did love how you knew your place!" She gave him a little kick with the side of her foot but he did not budge, pressing his forehead into the tiles so hard, he knew the pattern would surely transfer into his skin.

"I was just so curious about my little pet and _his_ little pet! What do you think they did up there last night?" She whirled around with glee, tapping her hennaed finger against her lower lip. "Poor little innocent animal! I wonder how innocent he still is today!" She bent over, speaking in a hushed tone. "I heard them last night, you know. I'm sure the whole palace heard them! He and his little bride made quite a racket. There was screaming and crying and something broke, I know it! Who knows if they're even still alive in there?" She dissolved into another fit of laughter. "Well - go on, go get your little boy. Let's see if he's a man today." She slipped into one of the damnable trap doors he had built into the palace walls, her disembodied voice floating through the hall. "I can't wait to see what he has in store for me - the beautiful new addition to the palace…"

Nadir lay on the tiles for a few more minutes, praying that vile creature had truly left and trying to gather his thoughts. When he was certain she was gone, he stood and started to make the climb up the spiral stairs to the top of the tower. As he went higher, her heard crying - the girl's? - and quickened his pace.

He received the second shock of his life when, halfway up the tower, he almost trampled the boy who had broken out of his apartment and was seated on the steps, sobbing. He was quite a mess, in only his shirtsleeves without so much as a waistcoat, his magician's cape embroidered with stars wrapped around his shoulders. His wig was on askew as if he had dressed in haste and he wore a full-face porcelain mask. Beneath that calm white false face, his red-rimmed eyes shone like candles. Tears dripped down from under the mask.

"You startled me!" Nadir said, reeling back. The boy looked at him with reproachful eyes and Nadir added, "I didn't expect to see you out, that's all…" Nadir said, sitting down next to him. The boy was so distraught, he allowed Nadir to place a hand on his shoulder. The boy cried quietly for a few moments and Nadir let him continue, waiting for him to speak first.

"She...she hates me -! And I understand but...but…" Another great sob shook through his entire body. "I did not lay a finger on her - I swear it!"

"No need to swear it to me; I know you wouldn't harm her."

"It was terrifying...Her fear is...acute...Nothing I could do or say made it better…" He removed his mask and showed the fresh scratch marks and a plum colored bruise on his cheek. Nadir was at a loss for words.

The boy replaced his mask and, continuing to sniffle, hung his head between his knobby knees. "Nadir Khan...I never ask about your past...I've heard things...but…"  
The boy had never called him by his actual name before and Nadir wasn't sure what it meant. "Yes, go on…You can ask me absolutely anything."

"I...I heard you had a wife before...but that she's gone…"

Nadir paused; it was still a difficult subject even after all these years. For the boy's sake, he reopened this old wound. "I did. I was married once. She died giving birth to our son, who also passed away at that time."

"You must've cared for her a great deal to not remarry."

"Yes...yes, I loved her very much." Nadir didn't think it was a good time to mention that even if he wanted to remarry, he had no chance to even consider a wife with the turmoil of the last few years.

"Were you married in accordance to these customs? Sight unseen? Not even knowing each others' names?"

"That's correct. Our parents arranged our marriage."

"...yet you still learned to like each other, to love each other…"

"Of course it took a little while; it's difficult at first to share your life with a stranger. But yes, we grew to love each other very much."

The boy asked nothing more, just sat with his head between his knees and Nadir's hand on his back for a long time.

After another few minutes, he straightened up, lifted his mask to wipe his face on his sleeve, and asked, "Would you like to see the addition before we open it to the court?"

Nadir let the boy lead the way to his passion project, the secret edifice that he even blocked Nadir from seeing. He had submitted his plans to the shah and they had been carried out for the past five years in utmost secrecy. The boy was allowed to supervise from time to time, escorted by a cadre of guards, the gold collar around his neck and at the end of a chain and without his usual minder. Now, just the two of them, Nadir allowed him to walk free, not a single chain or lock on him.

From the boy's quarters they walked to the main balustrade that looked down onto a courtyard. From the courtyard, they accessed the main area of the addition although high above them were more balustrades and balconies for the members of the court to look down below.

Each division was more beautiful than the last. The architecture that sprung from the boy's imagination was ornate, intricate, breathtaking. They passed through oddly shaped rooms and secret passageways, a reflecting pool, an incredible maze of mirrors. Nadir stood inside of that awesome room, his own image refracted back multiple times to a dizzying degree. It was cool and quiet, their footsteps echoing in the immense hall.

Behind the porcelain mask, the boy watched him with curiosity, with hope. He lead Nadir to the final area, a colossal garden. An enormous multi-colored lantern hung down from the latticed coppola filtering the sunlight and casting cool shadows. The arches in intervals were filled with colorful stained glass. Between the bushes were strange sculptures, abstract shapes that Nadir couldn't make heads or tails of. On every bush and in every flower was a butterfly; hundreds of them flitted to and fro, landing on their heads, shoulders, hands, faces.

"Amazing! It's - it's beautiful!" Nadir held out his hands, allowing the butterflies to alight on his fingers. The boy did the same, and Nadir would always remember how peaceful he seemed in that moment, standing in the sunlight, butterflies perched on his head, his hands.

He lifted his porcelain face and said, "Butterflies like to taste the minerals in our sweat and blood. They will even cling to corpses, you know."

"...oh?"

"These statues will be used to hold people in various stress positions, and as I...perform...they will sweat and they will bleed and the butterflies will flock to them."

Nadir's blood ran cold. The boy continued.

"The maze of mirrors will drive anyone to madness but there's a special trap door that leads to a torture chamber where the only way out is to hang oneself. The edges of the reflecting pool retract into the walls until the condemned falls in the water, where I will be waiting. As you can see, there's a lot of varieties in these amusements…"

Nadir was quiet for a good long time. He realized that the boy had built a twisted temple to his goddess, and just as he hoped, she had answered his beacon. His cruel deity had come home to be worshiped, and he had prepared sacrifices to please her.

Perhaps the boy realized this as well. Now that the last brick had been laid, he saw the evil potential of the fruits of his labors. But there was a fault in his devotion to his cold-blooded idol, his soul could still be snatched back from the black abyss that she had opened within him.

Quietly, Nadir said, "...but...it doesn't have to be any of those things. These sculptures can just be sculptures. The maze of mirrors, an interesting diversion. The reflecting pool can just be a place of peace."

The boy's eyes turned to Nadir, the faint light of hope still glowing within them.

"Good morning!" The princess' voice filtered down from above them, interrupting this quiet moment. They turned to look up where her form was barely visible behind the latticed balcony. She reached one hennaed hand out to allow a butterfly to alight in her palm, then instantly crushed it and dropped its crumpled body down onto them.

"You should hurry back to the main palace, Monsieur - someone forgot to lock up properly and there's a little mouse scurrying about!"

The boy gasped, realizing that he had neglected to lock the door to his apartment when he had broken out this morning. If the girl was running loose and the guards came upon her, there was no telling what could occur. He bolted out of the butterfly garden and Nadir had to run full sprint to keep up with him.

As they ran back the way they came, Nadir struggled to keep the boy in his sights. When they came to the maze of mirrors, Nadir began to panic - without a guide, he would easily be lost. The boy threw a switch hidden in the walls and with a roar, the mirrors straightened into hallways, the exit plainly visible on the other side. Nadir was furiously grateful for such an ingenious solution even as he panted and sweat and struggled to keep pace.

In the pool room, the boy finally outran him but just barely. Nadir burst into the main courtyard to find the boy pacing about in circles under the balustrade. The girl was on the walkway above them, guards closing in.

"Sweetness! Darling! My liver! Please don't move! Please! Please wait and I'll come up and they won't harm you! We can go back to our apartment in peace!"

The girl sobbed. The guards moved in closer.

"Wait wait wait wait! Please!" The boy threw his hands up in the air, begging the guards to stay. "Look! The daroga is here! He will keep us safe! He is our protector, our minder!"

The guards looked down, waiting for Nadir's instruction. Out of breath and panting, all Nadir could do was hold his hand up. The guards stayed, but the girl did not. Sobbing, she began to pace the walkway, caught in a trap. Where did she plan to run to anyways? How far did she expect to get? Did she think the guards wouldn't eventually spot her and drag her back to the apartment, alive or dead? In her desperation to escape, she hadn't thought very far ahead at all, poor thing!

"My dearest-! Let's go back and have a nice breakfast together! Anything you'd like! We can start the day over and forget this unpleasantness! I promise to be so good to you, so good, so sweet, I swear to you! You'll see! There's no reason to be afraid!"

The boy's fervent pleas only made her cry harder, her beautiful face contorted with agony.

"My mouse, my love, my wife -!"

Being called "wife" seemed to have a profound effect on her. Hearing this, the girl's entire demeanor changed. Her cries stopped instantaneously. Her face fell, went expressionless. A strange, chilling deep peace came to her eyes.

There was no screams, nor hesitation. She stepped back and took a running jump from the balcony, shattering on the exquisitely tiled courtyard below, dead on impact. Her blood ran in rivulets through the tile's pattern, seeping into dewy grass.

The temple had claimed its first sacrifice; the offering had gone willingly.

Not one person moved. The boy stared down at the slave girl's blood pooling around her broken body, his breath caught in his throat. Nadir looked from both the girl to the boy, unable to move nor speak. He thought that even the guards, in that horrible moment, had pity for the boy.

Loud, joyful laughter rang out, shattering the silence. The princess had been watching it all from the latticed balcony at the other end of the courtyard and what she saw was just another amusing diversion for her benefit.

The boy turned and raised his porcelain face towards her shadow behind the lattice. The pressure in Nadir's chest returned with a vengeance, unsure of the turn things were taking. Slowly, a madness crept over the boy. His mind unraveled before Nadir, undone by this final act of cruelty and hatred.

As he had done countless times before, the boy executed a bow with a flourish, whipping the mask from his face.

"Are you amused, my lady?" He called out.

"Very, my pet! Very amused! Bravo!"

"I have so many more amusements ready for you, your majesty!" He quickly straightened to his full height once more. Nadir saw that shocking power coursing through him again, the same raw energy he witnessed many years ago when the boy was a child. But now...now he was practically a man, and that murderous rage was more powerful than anyone could possibly imagine. It was terrifying then...the level of fear Nadir felt now was beyond petrifying.

With a snarl, the boy threw the porcelain mask to the floor, breaking it into thousands of pieces. Nadir jumped. The princess shrieked with joy even louder and the boy joined in her mad laughter, roaring with delirious glee. The princess paused for a moment as he began to laugh, watching this new development with excitement, and in her momentary silence, the boy howled with insane delight even louder. She had finally succeeded in casting him into the black void inside of his soul; Nadir had lost him completely.

"My lady, I should prefer a living bride next time! Please forgive me for questioning your choices!"

"No offense taken, my pet! I thought she was worthy of you, but she clearly was not…"

The boy turned, a terrifying grin across his bare face, and scooped up the limp, broken body of his betrothed. "My poor little wife! It's too bad she wasn't very long for this world...She wouldn't object to a kiss now, would she..?"

Nadir couldn't bear to see him playing this way and grasped him by the shoulder. "Please - this isn't right and you know it!"

The boy sharply turned to look at him. "This is a killing floor, daroga. You should go before the festivities begin."

His cold tone, his eyes that seemed drained of humanity just like his mistress', turned Nadir's stomach with fear. He barely recognized the child that he had practically raised as his own. Nadir backed away, fled through the door back to the main area of the palace, the boy and his goddess' joined laughter echoing down the hall.

The princess couldn't wait to open the addition and neither could the star entertainer. The body of the slave girl was hardly cold before the next offering was brought out. The boy performed as he had never performed before, never faltering, executing each kill as slowly or as precisely as the spectactors demanded. The pleasure he experienced as he garotted the condemned to death, or dragged them into the depths of the pool, or drove them to madness in the maze of mirrors, bordered on the obscene, was practically indecent to behold. Blood slicked every surface of the demented temple and the bodies of the dead were displayed in the garden, decorated with butterflies. The whistle of the Punjab lasso as it flew around its victims' necks stayed in Nadir's ears even as he tried to sleep. That summer, hour upon rosy hour was filled with dark diversions for the princess' black heart.

When he wasn't claiming lives in the palace addition or playing his music which had taken on a strange, hard edge, the boy would stare into his wedding present, the mirror. Nadir still took tea with him many nights, still tried to bring him out of the darkness he had wandered into, but it seemed there was no reaching him. He didn't dress in Persian clothes or speak French like they usually did when they were alone in his apartments. He simply stared for hours into the mirror that he had propped up on his vanity, barefaced, his eyes focused on eternity.

Nadir tried to be silent, sitting at the parlor table with a fresh pot of tea and some Turkish delights, waiting for a break in this black mood. Days and days passed, the tea went cold, the sweets went untouched, yet Nadir came back again and again, still hopeful.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. Feeling he had lost the boy's soul forever, he began to quietly weep. Just as he was about to leave, the boy stood and walked towards him, his eyes still distant.

In an eerie voice he said, "Nadir Khan, you are a good man. You shouldn't be trapped here in Hell with me."

He sat and poured a cup of tea but said no more that evening or for days afterwards.

The princess' last day in the palace came after what felt like years to Nadir. The shah and the entire court had grown weary of the never-ending amusements that she demanded. Her husband seemed as if he had aged even further, getting a glimpse into the terrifying things that delighted his bride and her favored pet, who did everything he could to meet her needs. At the farewell feast, she pouted and sulked, begging her husband to allow her to stay later. Little did she know the shah had firmly made up his mind to send her away and had arranged it with her husband. Once, she could do no wrong in his eyes, and perhaps that was still true, but her insatiable and demented desires had stretched the limits of his love.

Nadir focused on surviving this final night. He could rest when she was over the last mountain and out of sight, but not a moment before. The boy was in a strange mood, his eyes fixated on the princess when he thought she wasn't looking. It was bordering on inappropriate, especially for his station. There was a glimmer of lust in his eyes - for her blood or for her flesh, Nadir wasn't sure. Would he be audacious enough to act on it was the real question.

As the meal was winding down and all were saying their final farewells, the boy approached her table.

"My lady," he said with a bow. "I would like to play you one last song as a way to say goodbye and thank you for your prolonged visit."

The princess looked from her husband to her father, waiting for dissent. When none came, she waved him on. The boy gave Nadir a sideways glance then turned away before touching his bow to his ever-present violin. Eventually, his voice joined his music - and had there ever been such a sweet sound? Nadir's heart felt lost in it, felt as if he was following the notes down a path to something beautiful and exciting as if he was falling into a dream…

With a gasp, Nadir raised his head from the table. How long had he been asleep? He blinked away the sweet dream that had been playing behind his eyes and looked around. The rest of the court was asleep as well - a new and devious trick the boy had played on them all. But why? What had he done while they were ensnared by that beautiful, powerful voice? Nadir's heart was hammering in his chest, the blood rushing loudly in his ears. He quickly scanned the room, checking to see if the princess was still there. She was, head perched in her palm, her cold green eyes closed, deep in sleep.

Nadir wasn't sure if he should wake anyone just yet but he knew he had to find out where the clever magician who had cast this spell had gone. Secretly, in the foundation of his heart, Nadir hoped that he had run away, far from this palatial prison and the cruel captors who had broken his soul. Unfortunately, as he approached the tower apartment, he could smell incense - and hashish. As he fumbled with the keys in the locks, he saw dim lights under the crack in the door.

"Good evening, daroga...I'm afraid I wasn't very entertaining this evening. Everyone fell right to sleep!" The boy gave an unsettling, uncharacteristic giggle that set Nadir's teeth on edge. Nadir strode into the apartment, finding the boy reclined on a pile of pillows by the window, a hookah at his side, the shah's favorite cat on his lap, his smile more unnerving in the soft candlelight. As he brought the pipe to his lips, Nadir caught sight of a glimmering object on his smallest finger - the shah's ring!

"...what have you done?"

"I did what was asked of me, as I always have," the boy said bitterly, stroking the contented cat with his free hand. There, on his other smallest finger, was something dark, a black band. Nadir came closer, snatching his hand up.

"What have you done?!"

The boy stared at him, his eyes brazen, blazing. He had a thick lock of the princess' hair wound around his other smallest finger; he must've cut it from her as they were all asleep.

"You fool! Are you mad?!" Nadir screamed in anguish. No matter what trouble the boy had gotten into, no matter how risky his behavior, no matter how many insults the boy flung at him, Nadir had never once raised his voice to him. Confusion, surprise, fear, sudden boyish timidness crossed his bare, malformed face.

"You've done it, you've finally done it!" Tears squeezed from Nadir's eyes. The pressure in his chest was now a crescendo. "You've gotten us all killed! You fool, you've killed us both -!"

The rush of blood in his ears drowned out the boy's voice as he called his name. Nadir sunk to his knees, red behind his eyes, a lancing pain in his chest; everything faded to black.


	11. Comforting Lies

Nadir was alive; weak, bedridden, but alive. To have such an event - a heart attack - at such a young age was unthinkable for him, yet here he was. He might've put on a few pounds from eating the rich goodies palace life put in front of him (wasn't a man allowed some indulgences?) but he'd always been healthy in general. It was surely the stress of palace life and yet, like an addict, he jumped immediately back into the fray. The moment his eyes opened and he realized that he wasn't in paradise just yet, he asked Darius to bring him the boy. His faithful servant complied, although he was confused as to why Nadir would want to summon the very person that had allegedly done him harm.

The boy was brought to his bedside, escorted by guards with swords in their hands and wrapped in more chains than ever before. He kneeled by Nadir's bedside, concern in the eyes behind a full face mask.

"What happened?" Nadir removed the mask and took the distorted face in his hands, startling the boy with his gentle touch.

"What happened? You went and almost died, you great booby!" The boy squirmed in his grasp, nervous and unsure but seemingly relieved. The strange affection this near-death experience inspired in his minder was throwing the boy off. Nadir patted his cheek and released him and the boy quickly replaced the mask. He remained kneeling at his minder's bedside, timid and faithful, a big change from the bold creature he'd last seen reclining on pillows and smoking a stolen hookah. That creature would rear its head again, and no doubt sooner rather than later; the boy's restless episodes had only been increasing in frequency. What would've happened if Nadir hadn't had this convenient medical emergency?

"What happened to _you_ , I mean. You're wearing more chains…"

"Oh, these?" He rattled them. "I hadn't noticed."

Quietly and in French, Nadir asked, "Are you in trouble?"

"Not as much as I should be."

"Thank Allah!" Nadir said. "And the princess?"

"She's gone."

Nadir sighed. "And the shah?"

"He asked me if I wanted to go with her."

"What? And what did you say?"

The boy's eyes narrowed. "You really are the most stupid person alive! If I had gone with her, I wouldn't be here right now next to you. This is what I said to his highness, I said you were such an immense buffoon that you needed someone to look after you. Think before you speak, old man!"

Nadir couldn't help but smile. While the boy tried to scoff and put on airs, his trembling voice said more than his words ever could. Nadir's heart leapt to know that he had made this choice, that he had saved himself from the darkness of that evil woman's influence. Perhaps there was still hope…

"And the cat? Did the shah find it missing?"

"The cats sometimes wander all over the palace. Lucky that I found it before it ran away!"

"Oh, of course…" Nadir rolled his eyes. "And the ring?"

"What ring?"

"Don't be smart with me - you know I mean the shah's ring."

"The shah wears a ring on his littlest finger; what of it?"

"I saw that ring on _your_ littlest finger!"

"I have no idea what you speak of. It remains on his finger." By this time, Nadir had grown addept to noticing the boy's tells, little hints that gave away his lies. He was betraying himself right now but if there was a ring on the shah's finger at this present moment, there was no telling if the boy had given back the original or if it was now a very keen facsimile and he had squirreled away this long-desired treasure. Nadir's pocket watch still liked to disappear and reappear on its own, after all, so perhaps the boy had given the ring back without anyone being the wiser.

"And your lullaby? What of that little trick?"

"I...must've been quite boring…everyone fell asleep, didn't they?" He squirmed even more, caught in another lie.

"That was a very bad trick you played. Your voice is more and more powerful every day; you must be careful with what you do with it. You should know what kind of trouble you can get into!" Nadir softly cuffed his ear. The boy was writhing in place, unsure of how to process this sudden bout of affection, not knowing how to deal with all of this kindness and concern. Still he remained kneeling by Nadir's side, worry and relief both written plainly on what little could be seen of his features.

"They think I tried to kill you."  
Nadir snorted. "If you had tried, you would've succeeded."

The boy cast his eyes down, humbled and remorseful, if only for Nadir's sake.

"I was just joking. Stop making that face...You almost seem like you are repentant for all the trouble you've gotten us into or that you give a damn about the old daroga of the Mazenderan…"

The boy lifted his masked face, looking so weary and cold as he had the first time they spoke in that little tent so long ago. This last cruel game - this sham marriage - had gone a long way towards breaking him and yet...he had survived. He had descended into the underworld and returned - worse for wear, with even more blood on his hands - but he had come back.

Nadir sighed. "You are too intelligent to be imprisoned in this palace and broken by such desires as those of - - " Nadir caught himself before he mentioned the princess. One never knew who was listening at the door, even if they were speaking in French. He instead gave a weak little cough and patted the boy's shoulder. "Don't worry; I'm much better now. She's gone, and things will go back to the way they were…"

Once something was written on paper, the page was never blank again, was it? The boy had been broken and bent, Nadir's mind, body, and soul had finally been shattered, a torrent of blood had been extracted, and one little slave girl demonstrated the only way out of a living hell taking with her the last bit of hope for affection in a delicate, hopeful heart, all for that evil woman's capricious whims. Nadir had told them both a comforting, insidious lie without even realizing it.

Much to Nadir's surprise, when he rejoined the court, the shah summoned him and said that he was sending him away on a vacation of sorts, off on another wild goose chase to find the next interesting diversion to entertain the court. The mania for all things French was still going strong, and the shah had decided to send him away to Paris where a grand new hall of music, theater, and dancing had recently opened. Nadir's brief convalescence had hardly been long enough but there was no rest for the weary it seemed. Why this urgency to get him out of the country?

The last time Nadir was dispatched like this, he had brought home the boy. Nadir feared he was being sent out to find a replacement, that the moment he was gone, the shah would take this opportunity to get rid of a pet that was obviously growing into a threat.

Perhaps the boy understood this too; he was exceptionally well-behaved before Nadir's trip and was always attentive during tea, trying to spend as much time with his minder as possible. They hadn't been apart for hardly even an entire day during all of these years and now Nadir would be gone for perhaps months…

On their last evening together, they talked late into the night, drinking pot after pot of tea, trying to prolong the hours. The boy was nervous but tried to hide behind his cutting arrogance and biting humor, right until the end. As they parted, Nadir embraced him, perhaps the first hug the boy had ever had in his life. He bristled and tensed up, unsure of what exactly was happening.

He couldn't exactly bring himself to say goodbye; it felt too final. Nadir managed to say, "...I'll be back soon."

"You're such a sentimental old fool!" The boy sneered and put on a brave face. "Take your time coming back - I won't miss you at all!"

As Nadir closed the heavy door, just before he turned the many keys in the many locks for what felt like the last time, he saw tears sparkling in those strange golden eyes. What would become of Nadir's lost boy?


	12. Rosy Reunion

The sight of the Persian palace made Nadir's heart leap within his chest. More than hearing his native tongue again, more than the fragrances and tastes of his native land's meals, more than being among his own people who understood his customs, the palace was his final and true homecoming. It had been months since he had laid eyes on the minarets and spires and he couldn't suppress a little glad gasp. His eyes immediately flew to the tower; the windows were dark.

Just as quickly as it had risen within him, his heart now sunk to the pit of his stomach. He chided himself for being so emotional over it; it was obviously what had been designed to happen. Why else would the shah send Nadir away but to clear away the last objection to the simple extermination of a very real threat?

Of course Nadir could only think of the boy during his travels. He had been sent to the boy's homeland to find French entertainers. All day he was surrounded by things he wished to share with him, things that he longed to show him. And yet...there were times that he had forgotten the boy existed at all, forgot all about tangles of court life and the demands that were made of him. And he was happy to forget. Guilt now mingled with sadness in the core of his heart and it was with this heaviness that he approached the room the shah was waiting for him in.

Upon entering, he stopped in his tracks - but, sensing it was a betrayal of his emotions, he spurred himself on. He made the appropriate supplications as he approached the throne but he had seen it - the Louis Philippe-style chair at the side of the dais where the boy usually sat. Perhaps...Well, Nadir was cautious with his optimism.

"Oh king of kings, I know you will find these entertainers the pinnacle of European style, perfection in every way!"  
"They're resting in the cottage now?" The shah asked, waving Nadir to his feet.

"Yes, your majesty, but I believe they will be recovered for the receiving feast you've planned for them tomorrow, and then ready to perform beginning the following night through the week. And they understand, your excellency, what a privilege it is for you to allow them to demonstrate their considerable talent. I must also thank you, your highness, for indulging this idea of mine and allowing me to bring a taste of French entertainment to the court. You know…" Nadir polished his pince-nez with his handkerchief. "...the managers of the opera house were quite intrigued by your interest and wondered if your highness would deign to visit their establishment sometime in the future. One of them has traveled with the group, in fact; I'm certain he'll bring it up. Something to consider…"

"We'll see. Your letters describing their talents were quite interesting and I look forward to what they have to offer."

There was a moment of silence then where the shah seemed lost in thought and Nadir waited to either be dismissed or answer further questions. The shah stroked his beard and turned his eyes to his faithful servant.

"I know you are thinking of him. Don't worry - he should be in his apartment. But we should have a discussion regarding our little friend before you get too comfortable, daroga."

Nadir's heart felt as if it was doing somersaults within his chest and he worried there was a repeat of his past medical emergency in his future. "Your eminence?"

"Daroga, our little friend has been an invaluable addition to the court for many years. And yet…" the shah tapped his finger against his chin. "You can't deny that he's been...less than obedient these last few years. I know, I know...my daughter brings out the worst in him. But it was even before that - don't you think, daroga? - that he was starting to show signs of disobedience. And he doesn't respond very well to any of our methods to get him to stay in line."

Nadir waited, head bowed, to hear where this line of thought was going.

"Did your man tell you what happened after your episode?"

As they were traveling to Paris Darius had, in fact, told Nadir what had happened during the time immediately after Nadir fell ill. The next day, the princess and her husband were set to leave but they delayed departure one day longer. There was the matter of retribution for the boy's little trick of putting the court to sleep and the princess wanted to be there for it. Nadir was grateful that he had been far out of the country and away from the royal family when Darius recounted what happened next. There would've been no way he would've been able to hold his tongue if he had been at court.

The shah decided the boy was to be flogged. Corporal punishment wasn't new; after all, it hadn't even been a year since the shah personally broke the boy's hands for trying to steal a kiss from one of the girls who served in the haram. It was these snaps of cruelty that defined the borders of the shah's tolerance.

One way or another, Darius found himself as another witness in the butterfly garden, no doubt engineered so that he could tell Nadir the story of what transpired. It was quite gruesome; the boy was in the position many of his victims had been in before, with a eunuch wielding the whip and the shah and the princess watching from their customary perch. Unfortunately, the boy had been conditioned to take a beating early in life and held up for longer than they expected.

What they wanted was a performance, they wanted to make him sing. He submitted without hesitation but withheld his voice, no matter how fierce the lashing, no matter how much he bled. The shah looked on, grim yet determined to met out the punishment. The princess' experience, however, was far more varied.

First was anticipation, delighting in the sight of the boy stripped down and humbled for transgressions against her. After the first crack of the whip, she looked on with a vulgar, almost obscene pleasure. As the the silence wore on, she began to writhe with frustration. Next came anger, her green eyes sparking from within the shadows of her screened gallery. Inspiration came last.

"Oh, daddy, daddy! Don't hurt him anymore! Hasn't he suffered enough?" The princess threw herself at her father, hanging off his arm. The shah held out a hand and the eunuch stayed his whip. "Daddy, if he's been so bad to you, why not get rid of him - send him to me! I'll make sure he stays in line…"

Here, she approached the balustrade and looked down with gleaming, scheming eyes. Regardless, whatever she had in mind wouldn't come to fruition. The boy grinned - his terrifying, chilling smile - and said he served the shah alone as he was the one who purchased him. This earned her fury - but the shah's mercy. The whipping ended but Darius mentioned the boy was kept in the prison until Nadir had summoned him upon his recovery. What kind of pain must he have been in when he appeared at Nadir's bedside?

"His obedience just then...I believed it, but just for that moment. I think our clever friend has a way of...changing our perceptions sometimes. Don't you think, Daroga?"

Nadir's eyes went to the dark red ruby that sat on the shah's littlest finger for just a moment and nodded hesitantly, if just to agree with his king. "First, he was caught with the girl from the haram. Then, he put us to sleep with his song. What did he do during that time? You said you found him in his room, locked up tight. That can't be all…"

"That was all, your highness, I swear it…" Nadir once again bowed deeply. "The shock of it all was so great...I must be of more delicate constitution than I thought…"

"He has run you ragged, hasn't he?"

Nadir remained silent.

"There was another transgression…"

Nadir swallowed hard. _What now?_

"...although I'm not really sure if it was a transgression or not. He said it was a mistake, and at the time, I believed him...but now I'm not certain."

Nadir suppressed an exasperated sigh.

"Did you know...one of the architects that helped with the creation of the palace addition was caught trying to smuggle out the designs?"

Nadir gasped. The shah nodded and continued.

"Well, he had hoped to make it as far as perhaps India and sell the concepts. I don't like that, don't like it at all. This is _my_ special, private palace, this is _my_ personal jewel!" He paused, his brow furrowing. "So you know what the punishment had to be - he was made to run the maze. Our Monsieur seemed upset about the task I put him to, as if he had an affinity for the man. Is that even possible?" He seemed to ask this question to no one in particular so Nadir kept his mouth shut. "Eventually, he wore the man down, chasing him through the mirrors. The terror was something to behold...the man wasn't a criminal, wasn't used to the threat of punishment."

Nadir's stomach turned, thinking of this scholarly, rather timid man being hunted in the very creation he helped build by what he assumed was a bloodthirsty creature.

"As a mercy, the Punjab lasso was administered and that was that. So I thought!" The shah narrowed his eyes. "As they took his body for disposal, he sat up! Apparently, he had only been subdued, had only lost consciousness! Why, if the guards hadn't lingered, he could've possibly escaped!"

"...It must've been a mistake, your excellency," Nadir said with a weak, shameful smile.

"That's what _he_ said. He said that he had made a mistake. Tell me - has that meticulous creature ever made a mistake?"

Nadir helplessly shrugged, unsure of what to say.

"I'm not sure, not completely certain that it was a mistake...but at the moment, I let it pass. That's three transgressions that I've let go. I've never been so lenient with someone who has been so disobedient. Yet when I punish him, nothing seems to reach him. He doesn't seem to care about anything...except…" The shah turned to Nadir, his intention clear in his eyes. "Well. I'm sure if I need to, we can be creative and find a way to get his attention. Don't you think, daroga?"

"Yes, your excellency." Nadir folded over into a deep bow, practically biting his tongue in two.

"Go on up to see him. No doubt he has been waiting for you to come back."

"Thank you, your grace." Nadir bowed and scraped and crawled his way out of the receiving room. With a measured step so as not to betray his excitement, he made his way to the tower. There would be another day to process all that the shah said. For now, he had quite a bit to discuss with his favorite prisoner.

At the door of the tower stood two guards - new additions, no doubt, or perhaps installed just for Nadir's absence. Nadir waved them away and jabbed the many keys in the many locks, finally opening the door. The boy was standing in the center of the room, almost in the same position Nadir last saw him in, seemingly waiting for him. In his strange little way of showing affection, he reached out and gave Nadir a light pat on the forearm with his cold, bony fingers.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he said meekly, trying not to betray his elation. Nadir wouldn't have it and gathered him up in a crushing embrace. The boy gave a squeak of confusion but gamely tolerated it.

Nadir ordered a proper feast to be brought up to the tower

and proceeded to eat up the entire night with his tales of Parisian life. He talked about the gardens, the cafes, the nightlife, the fashions, the people, and the crown jewel of his trip - the incredible opera house. It was a kingdom unto itself, filled with tailors sewing the clothing of heroes and queens, stagehands crafting fantastic worlds from paper, wood, and fabric, the way the air seemed to vibrate with potential right before the curtain went up, the ebb and flow of Parisian patrons going up and down the polished grand staircase.

Apparently, his royal insignia made quite an impression on the management who took great pains to show him around to his satisfaction. The combination of exoticism, the potential of a royal patron, and Nadir's charming French skills went far in allowing him quite a bit of access. The managers bent over backwards to make him happy, especially once Nadir began writing letters to the shah with his proposal. Nadir described the incredible view from the manager's personal box, box five, a perfect perch to the side of the stage that allowed one to see not only the performance but into the orchestra pit and a little bit back into the wings.

And what incredible performances! The music, the singing, the dancing - unlike anything Nadir had seen before. Nadir went on and on, trying to describe all that he had seen.

" - in the end, I was able to secure, through the shah's generosity, three singers, five musicians, and six dancers along with one of the managers. Tomorrow, you'll be able to meet them all at the reception, and then my friend, the ballerina - "

"Hold on one moment, daroga. I have to switch." The boy held up a hand to silence him.

"Switch? What do you mean?"

The boy's fingers walked over the spread set out in front of them, settling on the bowl of sugared almonds. He plucked one and placed it next to a line of nine olives on his empty plate.

"I ran out of olives. Please continue."

Nadir looked down at olives and the lone almond on the boy's plate. "What? Ran out of olives? What is this?"

"This? Well, I decided to start keeping track of every time you say 'my friend, the ballerina'. At this moment, you've mentioned her…" He made a grand show of counting out each olive "...roughly ten times."

Nadir blinked, dumbfounded.

"She must've made quite an impression on you, old man! In any case, you were saying? What did you want to tell me about meeting 'your friend, the ballerina', tomorrow?"

Nadir fumbled for words for a moment, unable to speak.

And then he heard it.

He giggled.

The boy blankly stared at him as if he couldn't believe his friend had uttered such a ridiculous sound. Nadir could scarcely believe it himself. But it wasn't the first time.

No, he had made this absurd noise once before when his friend, the ballerina, had been the only one brave enough to show him down to the legendary black lake under the opera house. She was quite courageous, leading the way with a lamp held high to a bridge that stretched over the still, black waters in the depths of the basement. But there were rats down there in the dark and a rat catcher, and when this frightening entity made a brief appearance brushing past them in the artificial night, she screamed and practically leapt into Nadir's arms. At that moment, because he was nervous and because he couldn't believe he was being so familiar with such a strange yet fascinating woman, so foreign to him in every way and yet so comfortable as if he had known her before, he giggled. The sound carried in the dark and echoed, making him so self-conscious that to cover his embarrassment, all he could manage was to giggle again.

And he did so now, giggling once more. The lone drawn-in eyebrow visible on the boy's face began climbing up his forehead as his eyes widened with disbelief. Nadir stuffed his handkerchief under his nose to stifle any further giggling and poured himself a cup of tea with a traitorous, tremulous hand.

"Aren't you the least bit excited? You'll be meeting artists and fellow Frenchmen tomorrow," Nadir said, attempting a recovery.

"I am not French."

"What? How can you say that?"

"You've said it yourself. I'm not really French, I am a parody of a Frenchman."

Nadir paused. Perhaps he said something to this effect but he couldn't imagine saying these exact words. "Don't be ridiculous. You're plenty French. You'll get along just fine."

"They won't like me." The boy rolled the one almond with one finger back and forth across the edge of his plate.

"Of course they'll like you!" Nadir tried to sound confident but the truth was he wasn't quite certain what the reception would be when they discovered there was a Frenchman enslaved in the Persian palace. What would be worse is if the shah demanded the boy entertain them beyond just a bit of piano or violin and they changed their mind, deciding he deserved to be in chains.

The boy sighed."The question is to what degree they'll dislike me."

"You're so negative." Nadir waved away his concerns. "You haven't even met these people and already, you're being so depressing. You know, my friend, the ballerina, is very open minded and - "

The boy plunked another sugared almond on the plate. Nadir stared at it, conscious of what he had just said, unable to stop yet another giggle from escaping his lips.


	13. The Visitors

For the reception, the shah spared no expense. He wanted to ensure his French guests knew that this was a kingdom of unparalleled wealth, culture, and refinement and the palace was transformed into a temple to extravagance and splendor.

The shah, his wives, his children, his concubines, and all of the court regulars were arraigned in their finery and waiting with bated breath for the arrival of the curious, talented foreigners. For Nadir, this served as another test, another demonstration of his usefulness and loyalty. For all of the stress involved in the entire endeavor, and for everything that was riding on the whole affair, he felt more giddy than nervous. His time in Paris had strengthened his optimistic streak - and when had that ever been a good thing?

The moment the visitors stepped foot in the room, a gasp rippled through the hall. The French performers were a queer sight in the royal Persian court with their light features, voluminous dresses, uncovered hair. For their part, the French visitors were also obviously astounded to find themselves in such beautiful and exotic surroundings, the guests of honor at an incredible reception.

"Monsieur Charvet," Nadir introduced the shah to the one manager who had made the trek with his troupe to Persia and the one who was most instrumental in making Nadir's plan a reality.

"What an honor it is to be here, in this most splendid kingdom!" Msr. Charvet made the appropriate gestures and bows towards his royal highness while Nadir translated. On his way up from another deep bow, Msr. Charvet suddenly gasped - he laid eyes on the most curious creature sitting in a Louis Philippe-style chair to the the right of the shah's dais, an adolescent wearing bejeweled European-style formal wear, chained at the wrists, with half a porcelain mask perched on his pale face.

Nadir, noticing that the manager had gotten caught in that piercing golden stare, took the man by the shoulders. "The court musician…." he said by way of explanation, gently directing him to his seat.

Nadir made introductions for each of the musicians, singers, and dancers as they came up in their respective groups, bowing before the shah. He was grateful, though, that a few of the shah's daughters and sons had bothered to learn a bit of French so that he wasn't stuck doing the translations for the entire group alone.

The visitors hardly had a chance to touch the exquisite feast laid out in front of them before the royals descended on them, marveling over their voluminous dresses, helping them navigate the Persian cuisine, asking them questions about their lives in France. Wine filled every glass and chatter filled the hall.

"Old man -" the boy tugged on Nadir's sleeve as he passed by, running between tables and making introductions. "Which one is your friend, the ballerina?"

Nadir went pink in the ears. "Be polite!"

"Let me guess…" A mischievous, scheming grin spread across his face. "The one with the light hair, the little coquette? She's far too young for you, you know!"

"That's not her," Nadir said.

"The redhead?"

"No! And we're just friends, you know? Don't be a nuisance."

"Oh, daroga…" The boy leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "I'll be a perfect gentleman, I promise!"

Sighing, knowing it would come out sooner or later, he indicated the tallest girl. She was hardly a girl, quite older than the rest, with jet black hair and eyes to match. She sat up tall and wore a serious expression, and the other girls seemed to flock all around her like cygnets under a fierce mother swan's wing.

" _Her_?" The boy half whispered, half exclaimed. "She looks like a human yakhchāl! Sherbert wouldn't melt in her mouth! I suppose a big _niais_ such as yourself needs someone serious to balance you out."

"You're seeing something that isn't there. She's too young for me, anyways, and she will be going back to Paris after all this." For the first time, Nadir seemed genuinely irritated by his charge. "Most of those girls are probably your age. You should go speak to them."

The boy's expression darkened and he flatly said "No."

"Just say hello - they'll be here for a while, might as well be friendly."

The boy crossed his arms and sank down in his seat, looking more than ever like a petulant child.

"Come on - be social. Don't you want to meet the musicians? They're certain to love your playing."

"...I'll try to be cordial, just for your sake." The boy allowed Nadir to drag him over to greet the French visitors. He was coldly polite to those he was introduced to and received the same distant courtesy as he seemed just as strange to the visitors. When Nadir approached the ballerinas, he became curiously shy, practically hiding behind Nadir.

After introducing all of the girls and the one male dancer, he nudged the boy forward.

Nadir's friend was the first one brave enough to speak. "Enchante, monsieur…?"

"Just Monsieur."

"But...your name, monsieur?"

"That is my name, mademoiselle."

The group blinked in confusion, and before Nadir could regain momentum, the red haired girl spoke out loud what was no doubt on their minds.

Pointing to his shackles, she asked, "Why are you wearing chains?"

"I am a slave," the boy said matter-of-factly.

" - And a scholar, architect, musician, composer, inventor!" Nadir cut in, trying to recover.

"A slave?" the blonde dancer asked, incredulous.

"It's not as bad as it seems, mademoiselle. I live in a palace, all of my meals are prepared by the best chefs in the world, and I am allowed to pursue all of my interests in service to the shah. Many people wear chains that are far less visible than mine, and some chains are more preferable than others."

The younger girls whispered amongst themselves but there was an air of understanding in Nadir's friend's dark eyes.

"The most inconvenient thing about being a slave is that these chains obscure my fine cufflinks." With ease, he slid his hand out of the shackle, eliciting a gasp and a bit of nervous laughter. "You see? I'm rather fond of these. They're emeralds and it's a shame to hide them away." He replaced his hand.

"As you can see, my friend is a bit of a magician, too," Nadir said, hoping the shah didn't see how easily the boy slipped his bonds. "And you must see the incredible garden he has built for the shah. Perhaps later this week?"  
"A garden…?" They eyed the boy with suspicion as if the young eccentric wasn't capable of doing such a thing.

"Beyond compare! Filled with butterflies and colored lanterns...There's a reflecting pool and a maze of mirrors. It's quite beautiful, I assure you."

Besides the ill-fated architect who had tried to steal the building's plans, the shah had retired the palace addition as a place of punishment after the princess left. Since that festival of bloodlust, everyone had had their fill of gruesome spectacles. Nadir was grateful to see the boy's building eventually become a place to while away true rosy hours, with the palace elite reciting poetry in the pool room, having fun getting lost in the maze, picnicking in the garden. Time had wiped away the evil associated with what was truly a stunning piece of architecture and artwork.

"If you insist, Monsieur Khan." His friend nodded, settling the matter with the group.

Nadir saw the shah summoning them out of the corner of his eye. He made his apologies to the group and brought the boy to the throne.

"This is my personal French entertainer," the shah said, gesturing to the boy. Nadir translated as he went on. "He has many talents, chief among them music. I'm sure you will find him very amusing!"

"And the...the chains? Are they part of the act?" Nadir also translated for Msr. Chavret who waved a hand towards the manacles. As the boy understood both languages, he was intrigued with Nadir's diplomatic modifications.

"He's a tricky little thing and likes to do what he pleases - we must keep him in line somehow! - but I don't want to show you that right now. Boy - go play for us."

The boy bowed. "I live to please my king."

His piano was wheeled into place at the end of the hall and the boy took his seat. He lay his hands upon the keys and began to play, spinning that incredible music that seemed to be made from the fabric of his soul. For those moments, every eye was on him, every person silent and in awe of his immense talent. This is what Nadir had always dreamed of for him - respect, admiration, acknowledgment of his immense talents. He blinked away a few tears that obscured his vision and caught his friend, the ballerina, looking at him from across the hall, her black eyes pinned to him. Nadir looked away, feeling ashamed for reasons he couldn't quite put in words.

The boy played for what felt like hours and yet no one wanted the concert to end. He music filled their minds, their very souls with golden dreams. Eventually, the shah summoned him to his dais, gently releasing them from his spell. As the boy crossed the floor, the crowd whispered of his genius, eyes filled with admiration followed as he walked by. Nadir's heart swelled to see the opera manager's eyes wide with inspiration, eager to speak with the boy.

"My god! What a talent! I could see him coming to Paris, he would be a sensation at the Palais Garnier! Please say you would lend him to us!"

Upon hearing these words, the boy gasped. He looked to Nadir, hesitant to feel the excitement that anyone would feel in that moment, afraid that it would all shatter all around him like all good things did. Nadir nodded as if to say that he knew everything was lining up.

The shah chuckled. Bending down, he said directly to the boy. "Show him."

All of the optimism that had gathered in Nadir's heart started fading fast. The boy's back was to the crowd in the hall, all lost in a flurry of conversation and rich food. His only audience was Nadir, the shah, and the manager. With elegance, as if he was performing one of his magic tricks, he smoothly removed his mask. Msr. Chavret went dead white, shrinking back in his seat. The shah roared with laughter. Heads turned; the boy replaced the mask.

"That's not even the half of it! He's even uglier on the inside, full of devious and dark ideas. Oh, I'll enjoy sharing his many talents with you."

Nadir could practically feel the boy's emotions draining out of him as he wrapped himself in that cold shell that protected his sensitive heart from these cruelties.

"Daroga," the shah said. "Send the women to the haram. This entertainment isn't for them."

* * *

At the end of the evening, Nadir and the boy walked in silence through the dimly illuminated palace hallways, a slight breeze blowing in from the courtyard. Why Nadir thought things could be different, he wasn't sure. Perhaps his time in Paris had made him an even bigger soft-hearted fool with a head full of idiotic dreams than he was to begin with.

" _\- Not the Palais, but another stage," the manager said after this second performance the shah demanded. "Yes, I have a friend who runs one of those places that showcases oddities, curiosities, freaks." Nadir had tried to soften this last word in his translation but the boy had heard the original phrase regardless. "He would be brilliant there! All the people of Paris would be clamoring to get a look at that...that..." At a loss for words, the manager gestured to the boy's bare face. "Is he suitable for travel? I mean, with the chains and all that…"_

" _Oh, we bring him to and from the summer and winter palaces, usually in a locked litter. I imagine if he were to go to Paris, it would have to be in a bigger cage with sturdier locks...And I wouldn't allow him to travel anyways, he's too slippery - unless the money was worth it…"_

The tension inside of the boy was so powerful, Nadir could see it locking his joints, could feel it pulsing in the air. It was a portent of two very bad things - relentless sorrow or another rash outburst. Tears, as regrettable as they were, would be manageable at least...

"Monsieur Khan! Monsieur Khan!" A gaggle of voices called to him from across the courtyard and before he knew it, the flock of French dancers was descending upon him in a flurry of skirts and giggles and excited shrieks, a put-upon eunuch trailing in their wake.

"Ladies! You must be careful...things are different here, you can't go running up to just any man…" Nadir tried to signal to the eunuch that this was just a part of putting up with these curious foreigners. "The party is over - you should go from the haram to your quarters."

"Oh, it's not just any man, it's _you_ , Monsieur Khan!" The little blonde coquette giggled. The boy had leapt into the shadows beneath an archway and watched from around a column, delighting that these silly girls teased the old man as if he were their fond uncle.

"Besides - there were men in the women's room. Look - we have our own guard and he follows us around."

"Yes - but - he's different -"

"What do you mean?"

The boy took extraordinary pleasure in watching this polite and proper man struggle with explaining to the group of girls what a eunuch was using all manner of euphemisms. Another burst of giggling and incredulous exclamations broke out. And then -

"Monsieur Khan, look -!" A chorus of "look! look!" erupted as all the girls thrust out their decorated hands. The ladies of the haram had no doubt brought out the henna to celebrate and share with their new French friends. The only hand that was absent was his friend's.

"And you? You didn't get anything done?"

The woman blushed. "I...got it on my ankle." She faltered for a moment before recovering and sticking her thin nose in the air. "Besides - a design on my hand will interrupt the lines of my arms while I'm dancing." The other girls rolled their eyes at her.

"Monsieur Khan -" The redhead darted to the front of the pack, her eyes full of intention. "The ladies told us about - "

" - About that strange boy!" One of the brunettes followed up.

Nadir's shoulders began to creep up to his ears.

"Is it true, Monsieur Khan? Is it true that he hasn't got a face and that's why he wears a mask? Is it true his flesh is rotting off his skull? Is it true that he kills people for the shah?"

"Monsieur Khan - " Now the other brunette dashed to the front. "The ladies told us - well - they told us that he drove a woman mad and she killed hers-"

Nadir cut her off immediately. "Ah, I see that you've discovered the palace's favorite pastime; gossip. Many things are said within these walls, some true but more than often untrue. Listen to them at your own discretion but it's best to form your own opinion from what you experience for yourself."

The girls continued to whisper except for Nadir's friend, who stayed quiet.

"Mademoiselles, I look forward to your performances tomorrow night. You should rest so that you're well prepared." Nadir gave them a little bow, bid them adieu, and waited for them to reluctantly follow their eunuch guard back to their quarters, gossiping about the guard's condition behind his back in a language he didn't understand.

Nadir feared the boy would be in disarray due to the unpleasant memory these girls had dredged up but when he found him hiding behind a column, what was visible of his face was inscrutable. As they continued their stroll to the boy's tower, Nadir fretted over what wheels were possibly turning in the boy's mind. He glanced over at him from time to time but his expression remained distant, almost calm.

After a long silence, the boy said with a slight chuckle, "Your friend blushes to talk about her ankle but she goes around with her hair out, showing off her shoulders and neck!"

Nadir almost felt relieved to go down this conversational path. "Well, each culture has their own ideas…"

"She's older than the other girls, isn't she?"

"Yes, a bit older. She's actually not even the prima ballerina of the company but she dances better than the one they've got anyways. The prima ballerina, she said she wouldn't step foot in Persia because it was full of barbarians!"

"Ha!"

"Anyways, my friend was allowed to take her place at the last moment. She told me the management made a special case for her because by their standards, she's growing too old to be in the corps de ballet - which is truly ridiculous! - but also she's fallen on some hard times after her patron left her high and dry. The management, apparently, took pity on her…"

"Ah - a patron! It's like that, is it?"

Nadir shrugged. No matter where he traveled to, it seemed to be the way the world worked - someone was always selling, and there was always someone willing to buy. The boy had made the shrewd calculation even as a child about how he preferred to be sold. And hadn't Nadir sold himself, his morals, his best years, for the comfort of palace life?

He was scandalized when he saw the way the upper crust of Paris spent their afternoons - lounging at the edge of the stage at the opera house, watching the little ballerinas stretch and twirl and dance during rehearsals while wearing their revealing costumes. The managers suspected Nadir would like to join them, raking their indecent eyes over all of that young flesh. Although he kept quiet and stayed agreeable, he was quite shocked that the girls of the opera, supposedly a place of culture and art, were set up in this fashion.

And yet after a week or so in the city, the good men of Paris took their foreign friend out for a night on the town and Nadir did not refuse to join them in their revelries. After sucking down glass after glass of champagne in increasingly tawdry bars and dance halls - he prayed Allah could forgive him! - Nadir ended the evening in one of the finer brothels the incomparable city of lights had to offer, spending the shah's money in a most shameless fashion.

He recalled how, wandering back to his hotel in a fog of bliss from the first female contact he'd had in years, a sad little street walker approached him from a dark corner, offering the last shreds of whatever dignity remained for a sous or so. The cold awareness of the cruelties of survival washed over him and the warmth the ladies of the house had worked so hard to foster faded quickly. He couldn't meet her glassy eyes set deep in a face pockmarked by disease; he tightened his coat around his shoulders and hurried back to the safety and insulation of his plush hotel room where he continued drinking straight through dawn to forget the human misery that had found him in those shadows.

"Some chains are more preferable than others…" Nadir shrugged.

"I think she is very nice for you."

Nadir made an impatient snort and rolled his eyes. "It's not like that - "

At the door to his apartment, the boy turned to him with a very serious look. "You should go to Paris."

"What?"

"You like it there, don't you? The way you talk about it, it seems like you really enjoyed yourself for once in your life. You came back to Persia with roses in your cheeks and sparkles in your eyes."

"Well, but - "

"Take the girls back to Paris. Say you must be a gentleman and a good host and escort them back home. And then stay. Don't come back."

Nadir was gobsmacked, struggling for words, until he finally said, "And what about you?"

"What will happen to me will happen to me whether or not you are here. We run the risk of it happening to you, too, if you stay."

"I...I can't let anything happen to you. And nothing _will_ happen to you as long as you -"

"Nadir Khan," he said in the same eerie voice he used that night he broke free of the mirror's spell. "you are a good man. You shouldn't be trapped here in Hell with me."


	14. Endless Reflections

The performances, though on a much smaller scale than their usual incarnations, were just as Nadir promised - an effervescent, gelastic spectacle. Every evening, the shah and his favored guests would gather in the grand hall waiting to see the best, most grand performances Europe had to offer. To begin, the manager would step forward and explain the vignette they were going to perform, shortened to accommodate their smaller group of performers, with Nadir translating right behind him.

And then the act would begin - and what incredible acts they were! The outlandish costumes, the soaring vocal gymnastics, the outrageous plot lines! The manager sat at the shah's side, with Nadir translating between them, and explained how far scaled down everything was, apologizing for the lack of grandeur. Even in this diminished form, what they showed was incredible - a man dressed as a bird desperate for love, ready to hang himself from his endless loneliness until a bird-woman appeared; a malevolent devil manipulating a woman who was draping herself in tempting jewels; a French aristocrat disguising her mute lover has her maid to avoid her jealous husband - every inch a spectacle!

In this last role, because there were only three main singers, they had the dancers fill in as needed. Three ballerinas appeared as a chorus of disapproving servants, mincing about in powdered wigs and drowning in ruffles and ribbons. As for the mute lover, Nadir's friend took the part and, even silent, was the act that everyone talked about afterwards.

While she always carried herself with a serious expression on her thin features and was very prim and proper in everyday life, once on stage, she completely transformed. Her humorous, outlandish expressions stole the show, a grand farce that sparkled with joy. Her costume - tight breeches - caused a riot among the members of the audience. They couldn't believe a woman would wear such revealing clothing and act so outrageously but whatever transgressions were quickly forgiven due to the visitor's foreign customs and the strength of the performance.

The dancing was equally incredible. There was a scene in a room full of dolls dressed in costumes from around the world; four little swans dancing in perfect unison, chained together by their hands; a nymph and her human lover reunited after an otherworldly struggle. The costumes here - short skirts that floated barely to the knee or stuck out from the legs, bared arms and necks - caused a scandal as well but the ladies of the court quickly fell in love with the looks, clamoring for such skirts for themselves. And - the most incredible, improbable thing - just as Nadir said, the women danced straight up on their toes, their feet encased in pink satin slippers with hard little boxes on the inside.

Here was where Nadir's friend truly shined. The way she leapt and landed on her little box shoes, it was a wonder she didn't break her feet! She was incredibly expressive - conveying passion, joy, sorrow - without uttering a word. The boy could see why Nadir spoke of her with a gleam in his eye.

Every evening was spent watching these amazing acts and every day was spent in practice. Unlike in Paris, the men were forbidden from watching the dancers warm up but the ladies of the haram sat in all the time. The dancers even shared their skirts and gave them a few lessons in ballet; for this, the ladies brought them silken veils and showed them a few of the dance moves they did at their haflas.

As badly as he wanted to sit in with the musicians, the boy was barred from attending any practice sessions. Nadir took pity on him and when he could, would act as lookout while the boy snuck through the secret passageways to press his ear to the wall. No, the musicians didn't want to speak to him, the singers wanted nothing to do with him, and the little dancers regarded him with wary animosity at a distance.

Without anything to do since his performances weren't needed, he spent most of his time locked up in his apartment. Nadir had offered to at least take him to play with the cats but knowing Nadir would probably rather spend this limited time with his new friends, the boy declined. Besides, he was feeling inspired these days, and a strange music began to flow through him, something he wondered if he should bother to write down…

* * *

Near the end of their time in Persia, just as Nadir had promised, he arranged to give the girls a private tour of the palace addition. As Nadir and the boy waited for their arrival in the courtyard, the boy restlessly sawed at his violin, working a musical phrase over and over again, trying to get it just right.

"New music?"

"...I think I am writing an opera…"

"An opera? I knew you would be inspired!" Nadir clapped his hands. "What's it going to be about?"

"A person...so irresistible...people throw themselves under his feet, they die for him...he is in Hell...I'm not sure but...it burns, I feel it burning inside of me…"

Nadir sighed. "Come on...don't be so serious right now. The ladies are coming, we want to show them all of the beauty that you've built. There's no room for this kind of sour mood."

"It's not really beautiful here. I don't like this place."

"It is, it is beautiful. You'll see, the ladies will come and enjoy themselves and they'll see that - "

"What will they see?" He put down his violin, fixing Nadir with a cold stare.

"Monsieur Khan! Monsieur Khan!" The ladies appeared on the balustrade above, waving and calling for Nadir, their eunuch guard following behind.

"Good afternoon, ladies!" Nadir called out. "There's a door to your left that will lead you to the stairs...Come down and join us."

The ladies followed his guidance and disappeared into the doorway to make their way downstairs. Nadir dismissed the guard, saying he would take it from here. The eunuch tossed him a wary glance but bowed and left. The girls flooded into the courtyard, squeezing their ruffled dresses through the narrow door.

"Monsieur Khan, our singers said the shah took them through and it was just marvelous!"

"Yes, they won't stop raving about how beautiful it is!"

"They say the last garden is the most incredible thing in the world!"

"I'm so pleased to hear it, ladies; I suppose that's why I wanted to save the best for last for you. And as a special treat, you have the architect here to guide you." Nadir gestured to the boy standing at the far end of the courtyard. The girls regarded him cautiously from afar.

"Is that true? Did he really build such a thing?"

"Yes - and he planned it quite a while ago. It was just finished last year. Come along - you're sure to love it."

The boy didn't move, kept staring at the ground beneath the girls' feet; they were innocently trampling the spot where his unintended bride had ended her life to escape him. He was falling deeper, deeper into the darkness of his memories when Nadir lightly touched his shoulder.

"I promise you...You'll see the beauty through their eyes…" He whispered to him in Persian, ushering him along. The boy sighed and led them to the first room, the siren's pool. The retractable edges were extended all the way allowing the ladies to walk with ease, even in their voluminous dresses. The pool itself was still, as bright as a mirror. The girls gasped and some even bent down to dip a single finger into the calm water to create little ripples.

"This room," the boy said, nestling his violin under his chin. "Has an acoustic element that changes the sounds that you hear."

He played a slow but short melody on the violin and the sound echoed, reverberated in that cool chamber producing an eerie effect. The little devil had learned how to sing underwater and this effect had been used to confuse the victims that were lured to the water to drown. But now, all of the fear was absent, there was only joy. The girls squealed and giggled, their gloved hands fluttering at their hearts.

"Monsieur Khan!" Nadir's friend tapped him on the shoulder. "It's so strange, look - I have gooseflesh!" She pulled back her sleeve to allow him a glimpse of her forearm.

Nadir could feel his cheeks lighting up bright red. "So you do! Marvelous effect, isn't it?"

"Indeed!" she nodded in agreement, a coy smile on her lips.

The girls took turns singing little songs in the room or shouting out funny phrases to hear how the sounds changed for a little bit before moving on.

A gasp rippled through the group as they entered the next chamber - the hall of mirrors.

"The maze is never the same. You see, these mirrors are on pivots and just like changing scenes on a stage, there are levers to manipulate the configuration." The boy said, walking slowly, leading them through the maze. There were myriad reflections all around, distorting their visions, confusing them.

Nadir leaned forward and spoke in Persian, asking, "You didn't make it too hard, did you?"

The boy whispered back, "No, not at all. And the chamber is still covered."

At the center of the maze, there was a pit that lead to the ingenious chamber that drove many men to the brink of insanity. Once inside, the image of an iron tree was reflected over and over within the small chamber and the boy would make sounds and suggestions with his hypnotizing voice to worm his way inside their minds, all the while heating the chamber. A rope around the largest limb was the only respite from this madness. Only a few of the strongest lasted more than a day. This was said to be the princess' favorite form of torture and she would sit watching for hours and hours.

It hadn't been put to use since she was gone (even the poor architect had been forced to just run the maze with the chamber closed up) Instead, it was capped off with a lid that was covered in beautiful mosaic tiles and it was here that the girls stood, whirling in circles trying to figure out which way to go next.

Pointing to the balconies that lined the hall high above them, the redhead said, "If only one of us was up there, they could guide us…"

"But that's _cheating_ ," the boy said. The girls turned on him, huffing indignantly. He attempted to recover by adding, "I'm sure you can figure it out if you just give it a try…"

He began to fiddle another little tune, waiting for the ladies to make their choice of re-entrance to the maze. When the blonde one approached one entrance, his music turned morose, regretful. She backed away. One of the brunettes made their way to the entrance at the far end the his music grew more upbeat. Now smiling again, the ladies continued their journey, the boy's music guiding them to the final chamber.

The girls couldn't stop themselves from breaking out into a full run in the butterfly garden. Even Nadir's friend, usually so serious and reserved, joyfully joined them as hundreds of multi-colored butterflies alighted all over their arms, shoulders, heads, faces.

The boy faltered for a moment, watching as the dancers enjoyed themselves, frolicking on the sculptures that he had used to break men, playing with the butterflies intended to flock to corpses dripping in blood. Nadir nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Inspired by their revelry, the boy took up his violin and began to play. The girls squealed in delight and began to make up dances, going round and round the statues, darting in and out of the bushes. When they grew tired of dancing, sitting on the cool grass in puffs of petticoats, the boy brought out a few of his magic tricks, delighting them once more.

After a while, Nadir's friend rose and came over to where Nadir was watching the group from afar, one shoulder pressed into a marble column.

"Monsieur Khan, it's so different to see you in your native dress!" she said, joining him by the column.

"Oh, is it?" He shrugged. "I supposed I don't really think of it…"  
"You wear it well - just as you do your European-style suit."

Nadir blushed a bit and mumbled some words of thanks. "You know, the dancers caused a riot in those tutus - and you in those breeches! The court is both appalled by your mode of dress and dying to get their hands on those skirts."

"Is the shah pleased?"

"Very."

"Good. I can't believe he imported even more ladies to jump at his command when he has an army of wives."

Nadir struggled to stifle a laugh, making a rather awkward coughing noise. "Yes, I told you things were done differently here…"

"Very different." She nodded. "How many wives do _you_ have, Monsieur Khan?"

Another half-strangled cough died in his throat as he tried to choke down a nervous giggle.

"Well? Should I guess?"

"Mademoiselle, please!"

"Is it five?"

"No."

"Ten?"

"No!"

" _Twenty_? Monsieur Khan, how scandalous!" She laughed into her fingertips flirtatiously.

"None...I'm...not married…" Nadir blushed and looked down at his shoes. "I'm...I'm quite busy these days, haven't had the time, I suppose…"

"Busy?"

She looked over to where the boy was entertaining the group. He had a pair of golden rings that locked together and pulled apart, rolled along the backs of his hands as if acting on his command; they disappeared and reappeared, they stacked on top of each other, balanced perfectly. The girls had lost their fear of him and crept closer to get a better look at his little tricks. Being from the theater world, they had seen acts like this before, but it was simply spellbinding the way he performed them, as if his very hands were magic themselves.

She turned back to Nadir. "I imagine he does keep you _very_ busy…"

"Yes, but it's not all bad. As you can see, he's very clever."

"Is it true what they say? What the ladies told us in the women's quarters...and my dance partner, Alexandre, he was there after we were sent away during the reception, he said that he saw - "

"There are many terrible things that my friend must do. He is a slave, just as he said, and he acts on the shah's wishes. I told you that things were different here...You know that there are some circumstances in life that prevent us from doing what we really wish to do…" Nadir's voice grew strained. After a pause, he fixed her with a serious gaze and said, "I know you will think this is strange but…I believe that he is a great person..."

"Monsieur Khan…You're very kind." Her fingertips came to rest lightly on his forearm as she stepped even closer. "Do you think you'll ever find your way back to Paris? I believe I've made myself useful again to Msr. Charvet with my arrangements for the smaller group and the current ballet mistress is retiring so I might have a position -"

During their intimate conversation, they failed to notice that the magic act had stopped and a scuffle had broken out at the other end of the garden. There were some cries, the sounds of a tussle, and then a great yelp as if an animal had been wounded. The boy sprinted across the garden, wig askew, grey hairs flying at the edges, and hid behind Nadir.

"My god…" Nadir clasped the boy by the shoulders to steady him; he was shaking violently, either with fear or with suppressed murderous intent, he wasn't sure. "What happened?"

"Make them stop...make them stop!" He moaned through chattering teeth.

The girls skipped across the garden, calling out to him.  
"Come back - we just wanted a peek!"

"We only wanted to take a look - is that so wrong?"

"We were only teasing! Don't be shy!"

"Mademoiselles!" Nadir turned on the dancers, speaking with the sternest tone he could muster while still being polite. "It isn't like Paris; you can't go teasing him, he's not used to that…"

A fire burned in his friends' black eyes and, straightening to her full height, she took a stronger tone with the girls. "Ladies! I am absolutely ashamed that you would behave like a pack of little animals! How dare you? We are guests here and we should always act respectfully."

"Isn't he just a slave?" the blonde pouted. Nadir's friend silenced her with a cutting glance. Nadir patted the boy's shoulders, trying to reassure him, but he was hunching over, folding in on himself, and still shaking.

"Alright, mademoiselles; our fun is at an end. We should go back."

They walked through the dark corridor connecting the butterfly garden to the maze of mirrors. The boy led the way, still shaking so bad his chains rattled, the sound echoing off the high ceilings.

As they entered the maze, Nadir silently cursed that he hadn't asked the boy to straighten the mirrors so that they could walk straight through but the winding pathways seemed to have a calming effect on him. His shoulders seemed to relax and he had straightened up a little more. Nadir and his friend followed behind with the girls bringing up the rear. Although they had been quiet since the outburst in the garden, they now started to whisper amongst themselves. Growing bolder, they grew louder, and the redhead could be clearly heard when she said, "That _thing_ must be so upset - having to see his own awful reflection over and over again! I can hardly believe he built a place like this…"

Nadir's friend whipped around to silence them once more but it was too late; the damage had been done.

The boy stopped in his tracks. "'That thing?'" he said. "'That thing!'" His voice, usually a thing of beauty, turned to a terrifying roar. He pivoted on his heel, staring straight through his minder and the prima ballerina, his eyes fixed on the girls and burning like two coals in his pale face. The girls gulped almost in unison, backing up in a crush of petticoats and ruffles and ribbons.

Nadir's heart began beating hard and fast within his chest. He leaned forward, reaching out for the boy, trying to still his trembling shoulders.

" _That thing!_ " The boy cried, stepping back. "You want to see 'that thing' do you? I play music for you, I do magic tricks for you, I am a perfect gentleman, I build temples to beauty and art and it's never, ever enough, is it? You want to _see_!" He threw the chains from his hands, shattering the tiles at his feet.

"Please.." Nadir said, the blood rushing in his ears, sweat trickling from his temples. "Please don't…"

His petition was useless; the boy was already melting into the mirrors, disappearing into his labyrinth. Nadir lunged forward to see if he could still catch him; the moment he did, the mirrors began to creak and groan, twirling on their pivots.

"Monsieur Khan!"

He looked back and saw the moment the dancers disappeared behind a turning panel.

"Monsieur Khan!" He heard his friend shouting, heard her beating on the mirror.

"Monsieur Khan! Monsieur Khan!" A perfect imitation of her voice rang out from all angles. And then a low, sinister chuckle. "You want to _see_? Then I'll _show you_ …"


	15. The Monster In The Maze

Nadir had this nightmare many times - running the maze. While the princess was in residence, the dark dream tormented him every night. It had faded with time, but some nights he would bolt awake, his nerves on fire from the primal fear he felt of being hunted in hallways lined with the image of his terrified face reflected over and over.

Now this vision had become a reality. His heart was pounding, making him feel as if his head was in a vice. What state would the boy be in when he found him? Would he be reasonable or would he be gripped with that blinding bloodlust that sometimes fell upon him? Nadir cursed himself for being so foolish; it was his ludicrous optimism that now put his life and those of his guests in danger. He and the ladies called out to each other but the acoustics distorted in this hall too - and then there was always that other voice...

Nadir tried addressing the boy directly as one would a misbehaving child. "This is very disappointing of you!" He paused, turning within the hall of mirrors, waiting to hear a reply. "You're not acting like a gentleman should - and I know that's what you are! Stop playing little games like this and I'm sure the ladies will forgive you and laugh it off…"

"I _am_ being a gentleman!" The boy's voice had grown strange, disturbing. "The ladies want to see and I am going to show them. _Oh, ladies_ …Once you have seen me, you'll never forget me! I am a kind of Don Juan, you see...I'll be in your dreams, I'll be all that you talk about! Go back to Paris and tell them of the extraordinary gentleman you met who gave you all that you wished for-!"

There was a shriek at the far end of the hall, the patter of little high heels, and the stirring of skirts as they brushed against the mirrors, and then - a laugh, joyously unhinged.

"You'll never be able to outrun what you've seen, ladies! I can't outrun it myself! It sticks with you, doesn't it? Better than anything I could ever dream of creating, the way it ensnares the mind…God is truly the ultimate creator and I am his master's piece!"

"That's enough!" Nadir tried to put a stern edge on his voice but he was struggling to manage the cold fear that was creeping up from his gut, constricting his throat. "Straighten these mirrors out this instant or - or - !"

The boy appeared at the end of the mirrored corridor. "Or what, daroga?"

Nadir lunged for him but his fingers met cool, slick glass. The reflection multiplied, then disappeared. There was another little cry down another hallway and more hurried footsteps.

"Ladies, I'm sure you can find your way out. You're such clever girls!" More laughter, echoing all around. "I don't understand why you're running away, anyways...You lost your fear of me, didn't you? Crept so close to me because you wanted to _see_! _You little Pandoras!_ " The last sentence was spoken with a terrifying combination of boiling anger and the endless sorrow that always festered in his heart.

Suddenly - there was a sharp smack, a crack, and the thwack of a body hitting the floor. By Allah - what had he done?

"You should be ashamed of yourself - chasing girls around to make them jump and shriek! How shameful! To think that Monsieur Khan told me that you were some sort of genius. Ha! You are nothing but a - a - a naughty boy!"

Nadir's friend's voice was so clear and strong and cold, Nadir himself felt as if he was withering under that scathing reprimand. After this outburst, there was silence except for the pounding blood in his ears and his ragged breath.

And then - the mirrors started turning, straightening out into hallways. At the end of his, Nadir saw the boy. There was a red welt on his visible cheek, no doubt from being smacked across the face, and a fracture in his porcelain mask. He was pink with anger and shame, his eyes burning with fury, remorse, humiliation. Nadir stretched out his hand, reaching for him but the moment he took a step towards him, the boy bolted.

"Monsieur Khan!" The girls found their way towards the end of their respective halls. They gathered in a little flock of rustling ruffles, wiping tears away, their faces flushed bright pink. What was Nadir to do? To leave the guests like this was unthinkable, especially female guests without an escort...but to let the boy run wild in the palace, unchained…

"Monsieur Khan! There you are!" His friend dashed over to him, her gloved hand coming to rest on his forearm.

Nadir softened, sighed. He was resigned to letting the boy go; the consequences would come soon enough.

* * *

Nadir turned each key in each lock on the boy's door. Hours after the incident, returning the ladies to their quarters, searching high and low for the creature without alerting anyone else, and finally realizing where he had gone, the apartment was now dark, bathed in shadows with only a little illumination from the full moon shining through the windows. On the center of the bed was an enormous lump, a boy-sized mountain of covers and blankets.

Sighing, Nadir brought up some lights but left most of the room in obscurity. The lump shivered as Nadir sat on the side of the bed. With one pull, he brought the layers of coverlets and sheets and blankets down, revealing the terrifying monster of the maze, still fully dressed and quaking, tear-streaked makeup running down his still-reddened cheek.

"It was good of you to run to your apartment and lock yourself up after your little stunt today. Very convenient for me!"

The boy sniffled, moaned; his face caught in an ugly, messy sob. Nadir turned his back to him and did what he always did when he needed to parse his words carefully - polish his pince-nez. He rubbed the small lenses in increasingly tighter circles, scrubbing them so hard he was close to wearing holes in them. He was at turns furious in a way he hadn't been in years, mortally terrified of the unknown future they faced, and swathed in the sorrow that had seemingly clung to him from the moment his wife and child had died years ago.

If he was truly in charge of this child, he was of a mind that this boy needed to be taken up by the ear, strongly reprimanded, and sent to his room to fully ponder how disobedient he had been...but he was not the boy's master, and the actions he had taken were more dangerous than that of a rebelling adolescent, and the consequences they now faced were stronger than anything a strict parent could concoct.

How could Nadir deny the boy's remorse? Instead of running free, he had come straight to his room and locked himself up. Like a child, he had burrowed into his bed and continued to sob, even now gasping and sputtering, his bare face bathed in tears. Nadir stopped polishing his pince-nez and handed the boy his handkerchief to mop up the fountain of snot that came from that hole in the center of his face.

"Those girls, they - they - - Your friend must hate me and I made such a bad impression, I wasn't very polite was I? I can't help it, I couldn't help it, they scared me, they wanted to - "

"I understand." Nadir reached back to pat the boy's knee.

"You're angry."

"I am."

"You hate me!"

"Of course I don't."

The boy squealed before a fresh round of sobs gripped him, sending him almost over the edge into hysteria. No, Nadir could never hate this poor creature. It was hate that had already twisted him into what he was - a sad little monster shaking in his bed, terrified of himself.

Nadir steadied his voice. "The shah wants to see us."

"...I'm in bad trouble, aren't I?"

"We both are."

"But you did nothing -! It's all me, I'm the one who - "

"I'm in charge of you. And I was the one who made the decision to take you out with the ladies." Nadir's jaw clenched, more angry with himself than anything. "It was really my fault...That place has such bad memories for you; I was wrong to force it to be something else."

"It wasn't you, it wasn't you, it was me, it's always me!" The boy reached out and pressed his bony fingers into Nadir's shoulder.

"We have to go face the shah."

The boy's chin sunk to his chest, tears still trickling down from his chin to the sheets.

"No matter what, you are to remain silent, obedient, and remorseful. Understood?" Nadir covered the boy's fingers with his own. "No matter what happens…"

The palace was silent and still at this late hour, the only sound was the boy's chains as they walked to the shah's chambers. Nadir made sure the boy had washed up, changed, replaced the mask and the chains to be as presentable as possible. Despite the sorrowful remorse the boy was prepared to offer, despite the chastened spirit he displayed, Nadir knew two things for sure in his heart: this regretful and pentitant demeanor was temporary until the next time something pushed him over the edge and that it was all too late for them anyways.

The shah's chamber was darkened except for a few lanterns, the gloom making the shah's expression harder than ever to discern. There were more guards here than before, their hands on the butts of their yataghans. Nadir went to his knees before his king, the boy right behind him, bowing straight down to the floor.

It seemed an eternity passed before the shah spoke.

"Barbarians!" He roared. Nadir did his best to keep from flinching. "That's what they'll say when they go back to Paris. That we are animals who chase after foreign women. Do you think the manager of the opera would still have me now, daroga?"

Nadir knew no answer would suffice and tried to keep the stammer out of his voice when he spoke. "Your excellency, I believe -"

"How is it that the one French person I have here is capable of bringing such shame to all of Persia?"

"Your highness -" the boy lifted his head to speak but the shah silenced him with his hand.

"I don't know what to do with you." The shah stood and paced on the dais before them, stroking his beard. "On one hand, you are very capable and amusing, you have served me well. But on the other hand, when you disobey, you are an unholy terror, and growing increasingly unmanageable. I am beyond humiliated that you have acted in this disgraceful way. And now -"

"Your majesty," the boy rose to his knees, honey in his voice. "I am a repentant creature, and this incident -"

"Silence."

" - is a bit of a misunderstanding you see. I was playing a game and -"

"I told you to still your tongue."

"But your highness!" The boy crept forward, his voice taking on those golden tones that could wrap around one's brain. "This was all a terrible accident and if I were given a chance to speak to our esteemed guests, to apologize to the ladies, you would see - "

His voice had just started to buzz behind Nadir's eyes when the shah waved his hand in front of his face as if warding off those auditory charms. "Daroga!" He snapped. "Come here." He pointed to the ground in front of him. As Nadir got up to humbly come forward and kneel again on the dais, the shah took a dagger from a nearby guard.

"My king!" The boy exclaimed. "Daroga did nothing wrong! Why, that doddering simpleton was merely - "

"Daroga, open your mouth." The shah slid the point of the dagger between Nadir's teeth. Nadir tried to control his emotions but he felt his gut turning cold and clenching, sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades. Hesitantly but submissively, he opened his mouth. The shah rested the blade on his tongue, daring the boy to speak again.

"Your highness, what could come of doing anything to that imbecile? It was I who - "

"Yes, you have damaged the reputation of our kingdom and undone a cultural alliance." The shah locked eyes with his disobedient slave. Nadir's knees were aching, his tongue trembling beneath the steel in his mouth, warming it with his anxious breath. "But as I said, you're quite amusing when you want to be. Your tongue is more valuable to me than Khan's but this is the only way to get you to still yours."

"Your majesty - !" The boy's voice was shrill, desperate.

"Silence, or I'll cut it out from the back! Daroga doesn't need a tongue to put you in chains, does he?" The shah pressed down with the dagger causing Nadir to writhe in pain. Desperate, the boy threw himself to the ground, face down, completely resigned. For a long while there was only silence and the sound of his labored breathing.

After an eternal stretch of pressing his forehead into the tiles, there was the pattern of quick footsteps and he was taken up by the back of neck. Nadir yanked the boy to his feet and pushed him ahead, walking quickly out of the hall and down the dark and silent corridors. In the light of a few passing lanterns, the boy caught a peek of blood running down Nadir's chin, staining the front of his shirt. His face was white with fury, his eyes staring ahead in the darkness. He scrubbed at the blood on his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The boy began to sniffle but Nadir gave him a hard shake to get him to stop. This was perhaps the angriest daroga had ever been and the boy was properly terrified for once in his life.

"Monsieur Khan -!" Nadir's friend appeared in the shadows, whispering. "Monsieur Khan, are you alright? I was worried that - that - " Her eyes widened as the caught sight of the dark red splattered down the front of his shirt.

Nadir stopped dead in his tracks, whipping the boy to the side and holding him as far away from her as possible. "What are you doing here? Do you understand how dangerous it is for you to be without an escort in the palace? I've told you things are done differently here!"

Chastened by his angered half-whisper, she shrank back. "I….I'm sorry…"

Nadir's shoulders dropped and a bit of warmth came back to his voice - but just a bit. When he spoke, his words were fumbled by his injured tongue. "I apologize, mademoiselle. It's just that.." He gave a heavy sigh. "I'm sure you will be forgiven because you are not from here. If anyone catches you, just say you got lost. I can't take you back to your quarters; you'll have to go back on your own. I'm sorry."

Her keen black eyes looked over to the boy. Although he was a bit taller than Nadir, he was practically being held up by the scruff of his neck like a ragged kitten, wild eyed, his mouth set in a firm line.

"The boy did nothing wrong. This is - this is —" Nadir gestured towards the blood. "Just an accident. I'm fine. Really. Please go."

"Very well. Good night, Monsieur Khan." She gave a little curtsy and tread lightly back into the darkened hallways.

Nadir shook his head and gave another exasperated sigh before pulling the boy along and taking up the same quick pace as before they were interrupted. Puffing and panting, he almost jogged up the stairs to the very top and jammed the keys into their locks. He shoved the boy inside and went to the wash basin, pouring water through his mouth and spitting it back out again, waiting for it to turn clear. Satisfied, he scrubbed a bit at the blood on his shirt before giving up in frustration. The boy watched from around the door frame, unsure of what to say or do or even what could he said and done.

After a few more moments of splashing water on his face, Nadir wandered over to the table where they usually took their tea. He dropped his elbow on the table and thrust his fist onto his temple, staring at the floor and lost in thought.

The boy crept forward feeling more sorry and scared than he had perhaps in his entire life. Nadir was acting very strange, sitting at the table, staring silently at the floor. The boy sank to his knees, crawled forward to beg forgiveness but Nadir wasn't having it.

"No more kneeling!" He banged his fist on the table, startling the boy. He once more yanked him up by his collar and deposited him in the chair across from him. "No more."

The boy didn't know what to make of that. Perched on the edge of the chair, hands clasped between his knees, the boy watched as Nadir went back to his quiet rumination. With his unfocused eyes and his furrowed brow, he appeared to the boy to be the very image of the great Arabic scholars in history. He watched as the entire spectrum of human emotion passed over his friend's face. Apathy, anger, sorrow, despair, delirium, hopelessness, resignation, and more appeared in the subtle twitches of eyebrows, pulling of mouth corners, narrowing of eyes, interrupted from time to time by his bloody handkerchief dabbing at his mouth.

Nadir sucked in a great breath of air and let out a long sigh. His face settled into something soft, a bit sad, mostly unreadable. He stood and fixed the boy with his jade-colored eyes, reaching out to touch the boy's head; the boy flinched. Nadir continued and softly, fondly, ran his hand through the wispy grey tufts. Without another word, he turned and left, not bothering to lock the door. The boy sat in stunned silence, unsure of what, exactly, had just transpired.


	16. The Unkind Kindness

_I want to take a moment and thank everyone who read this and those who also left reviews. Thank you very much for indulging me and following along with my story; I seriously will never be able to properly express my gratitude. If you liked this, there will be a sequel coming up soon. Thanks again for your support!_

* * *

 _Stupid! Foolish! Imbecile!_

The boy rushed to the window of the tower that had the best view of the walkway where the great booby was sure to make his appearance. Who he was cursing at the moment, Nadir or himself, he wasn't sure.

The boy sat, forehead pressed to the glass, fogging it with the breath that rushed from the hole in the center of his face. Finally, the old man reappeared. He was still striding fast and strong, still animated with anger. Halfway past the shadowed walkway, he jumped back, startled.

 _What—?_

The boy squinted, trying to discern what had happened. Nadir leaned back against a column, clutching the flesh above his heart, a heart the boy had stopped once before. Nadir's ballerina friend crept out from the shadows, her hand lightly landing on his shoulder with concern.

 _Either she is very brave - or very stupid!_

To be caught creeping in the halls, to accost a man by himself, to be without a proper eunuch escort - all of these things were more dangerous than she realized. It could be only the fact that she was a foreigner and unaccustomed to their laws that she could escape punishment, Allah willing!

Perhaps she knew how dangerous it was and did it anyways, just for the old man's sake. She had to have been hiding in that hallway for a very long time when they met her coming back from their audience with the shah...She had not gone back to her quarters as he instructed and instead waited for Nadir to finish his business in the tower, clad in black to blend in with the shadows, creeping along with a ballerina's soft tread. The foolish man never stood a chance!

Oh, but he was now taking that stern posture with her again. The finger was wagging. The concern and anguish was plain on his face as he no doubt laid out the very real danger she had put both of them in. The boy couldn't hear a word but he simply knew that's what Nadir was saying.

Now it was her turn to speak. She was equally concerned, pointing to the blood on his shirt, his salt and pepper beard scrubbed clean but still a bit pink. Nadir faltered, took her hand, looked all around as if searching for somewhere else to go.

 _Don't do it, you fool! Don't get yourself into more trouble!_

But Nadir couldn't hear him; he kept to the shadows, leading the way to an exit out to the palace grounds. The boy knew where he was going and rushed to the other side of his apartment to press his malformed face to the other window, waiting for them once more.

Close to the base of his tower was a little grove of trees that concealed many couples who had illicit rendezvous in the dark. Perhaps those in the castle couldn't see but if he angled himself just right, the boy could get a peek right through the branches.

There were quite a few lovers who had no idea they were being spied upon by a curious adolescent drinking in every detail of their affairs. Back when he was gripped in the madness of the rosy hours, he would take note of who each member of the couple was because if they were caught, the man would be made to run the maze and the boy, as an added touch of cruelty that made the princess laugh, would imitate the man's partner's voice.

 _Evil, evil…_

His reflection on the corruption of his mortal soul was interrupted as two shadows slipped through the trees beneath him. With his cat's eyes and a little help from the full moon, the boy could tease details of the two object of his interest's actions out of the darkness.

Suddenly, Nadir whipped his head around. The boy dropped below the sill, squeezing his eyes tight. Those same cat's eyes that allowed him to see through the gloom would surely betray him; Nadir was looking for their light in the window.

Gripping the ledge with nervous, tight fingers, trying to judge when it would be best to take another peek, the boy remained crouched close to the floor. Slowly, cautiously, he brought his head above the ledge and peered down. Nadir was now facing away, speaking with animated gestures. The topic of conversation wasn't hard to guess. Who else could make him so angry?

 _Yes, yes, tell her everything, tell her about the wicked creature you've been chained to for so long..._

The years of agony and grief the boy had visited on him seemed to come pouring out as Nadir kept talking, his hands flailing all around. In the moonlight, his friend's black eyes shined with concern within her pale face. After a time, the old man seemed to melt, seemed to sag under the burden of all of the years of injustice. His friend was there to catch him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. He returned the gesture and they stood like that, holding each other up, for a long, long time.

 _Good for you, you great booby…_

Whatever happened next, well...that was none of his business. The boy turned from the window, pacing back and forth within his apartment.

Why, _why_ couldn't Nadir understand? Why did he have to insist on trying to make this wretched life more bearable for him? There was simply no point in it and he had told him - yes he did! - he clearly told daroga that he was exactly as they said he was and there was no point in pretending otherwise.

 _Monster, animal, thing!_

He had proven it very well in that garden, hadn't he? It was only a matter of time before his true nature came out...What a fool the old man was - to throw those little ballerinas in with a beast like himself!

Well, they had been perfect little beasts too, hadn't they? _Come closer_ , they said. _We want to see how you do the trick_. Women themselves are very tricky creatures and they know how to play on men's hearts - the princess often demonstrated this fact! There was nothing he liked better in this world than showing off how clever he was and these girls could sense it. _Come closer, come closer_ and then -

\- then they grabbed at him with their little reaching hands! Oh, they had him all figured out and he was outnumbered - so they thought! Two held onto his arms while one tried to grab at his mask! _Oh, we want to see! Just a little peek!_ That's always the way, isn't it? And they wouldn't be very happy if they saw what was beneath his mask, would they? So he was just trying to protect them from themselves - - why, he was being a perfect gentleman!

It was so difficult, so hard for him, they had no idea. To pounce on him, to paw at him like that activated his sense of self preservation and it would've been so very easy for him to take one of their delicate little wrists and crush it in his monstrous grip. He was at war with himself in that frightful moment, trying to keep from lashing out, fighting against his worst self. How easy it would've been to snap their slender, graceful bodies in a mad rush to get away but he could never! No, he wouldn't hurt a woman...would he?

He couldn't remember...During those rosy hours when all he saw was red he might've killed anything put in front of him...The shah would never send a woman to him - they were executed in different ways - but the princess could've...And that was the problem, wasn't it? If he lost control, the world would be wiped from his mind and who knows what would happen?

He was in control in the maze, though. That was a different kind of anger, the kind that cleared the mind and sharpened the senses. They wanted to tease him? He could tease right back! He didn't even really show them his face…

 _They should be grateful._

Mad girls! Why couldn't you they have just left him alone? Wasn't all that he did good enough for them? No, they always wanted to _see_ and then, he remembered very well, they would turn on him. Back in the days when he was locked in the cage, how very grateful he was for those bars because all of humanity seemed to want to rend him to pieces simply for the crime of being born as he was. They would throw things and jab him with sticks and their hands would always be grasping and grabbing and scraping and pulling at him. He had to stay at the center of the cage or they would reach him and if they ever did - - he shuddered to recall.

Whenever he thought of running away, this memory came flooding back. Just as the bars protected him then, the palace protected him from the outside world, a land full of terrifying people ready to rip him to shreds with their bare hands.

 _Some chains are better than others indeed!_

But now the real threat was inside of the palace, inside of himself. Why couldn't he contain his impulses, why was he no longer finding satisfaction with being a slave? People would always leer and scream and cry at the sight of him, people would always demand he entertain them and do their bidding. This is the lot he was fated to in this life and he had made up his mind to find satisfaction in it and yet he kept lashing out. He was just an animal, just a thing!

 _This is all Nadir's fault!_

Yes, it was Nadir who, on his first night in Persia, took him out of that coffin, who bathed him and fed him and gave him clean clothes. It was Nadir who tried to tuck him into bed and sing that stupid, ridiculous song to give him "sweet dreams", who gave him his very own bed and slept on the floor, who asked him to be "a good boy". He had told the idiot that he was only an animal and oh, how very sad his face was to hear it, what melancholy filled those jade green eyes.

The boy kicked his chair clean across the room in fury, hot tears flowing freely down his burning cheeks. Nadir - how he loathed him. He hated Nadir more than anyone else on the face of this godforsaken earth! He despised him more than possible for any being to hate another. His chest was on fire with rage and hatred. Stupid, horrible man! Embracing him, saying that he was "a good person" - as if he was a person at all! Introducing him to all of his French friends as if he was on equal footing with any other member of the human race! Why?!

The boy fell to his knees, wrapping his arms tight around him to keep the sobs from shaking his entire body and failing. He hated Nadir the most because the stupid fool didn't know what was best for him.

 _Nothing good comes from knowing me!_

He couldn't run away, couldn't face an entire world that wanted nothing more than to pull him to pieces. But Nadir could. Would that thick-headed imbecile do the right thing? Would he go back to Paris with the visitors, just as the boy told him to? That was the only way! If Nadir stayed...The boy moaned and pitched forward onto the floor...If Nadir stayed, something bad would surely happen...

From the moment his former captors drew a gun on Nadir on the bank of the river, the boy knew he was a dangerous weakness, a flaw in what was otherwise an uncomplicated life. Kill or be killed. Fight when possible, lay still and try to survive if not. But Nadir introduced another element, one that the boy did not want or need. The princess sensed it but she didn't have the guts to go after the great booby - not yet, anyways. She was surely building to it and missed her chance. But the shah wouldn't hold back - that was obvious now.

The boy shook from head to toe with an angry sob thinking of the knife pressing into Nadir's tongue. He would fight the entire Persian army to keep that idiot safe, but even then, he was just one single creature. The boy squeezed his eyes tight, sparks dancing behind his eyelids.

 _Go back to Paris and stay there! Leave me and forget that I exist!_

* * *

He was awakened the next day by the sound of guards milling about his room, staring down at him in confusion. He squinted up at them, half-blinded by the crisp morning light filtering in from the windows. He found he was still sprawled out between the foot of his bed and the table. It seems he had cried himself to sleep on the floor like a stupid child.

 _How embarrassing!_

He sat up, feeling the kinks in his spine crackling along his back. He scrubbed his sunken cheeks, his naked face sore from sobbing. Why were there so many guards? At least three of them were crowded into his apartment and yet they hadn't demanded anything of him. Mostly they seemed perplexed that he had been lying unconscious in a heap on the floor. As he slowly rose to his feet, two of the guards drew their yataghans.

"What...What's this all about?" He glanced down at the sharpened points aimed in his direction.

"Breakfast." One answered. A tray bearing a humble meal was deposited on his table and the guards backed out of the room, slamming the door and locking each lock.

 _Well...that was odd._

Usually it didn't take so many people to bring him a simple meal. He sat at the table and picked at the food, not feeling very hungry, hungover with sorrow. He wondered if Nadir would be stopping by but by late afternoon, it was apparent he most likely wouldn't.

The boy took up a position nestled into the corner of his window and gazed at the palace grounds, watching for any form he might recognize crossing back and forth. Sometimes he saw one of the French visitors, usually accompanied by a eunuch or a member of the royal family...He even saw a ballerina or two. Mostly it was the same old palace staff, no sign of Nadir anywhere.

Dinner was the same nonsense; multiple guards, one tray. The boy sat on the bed and watched as they nervously brought him his meal and then backed out of the room, locking him up again. As darkness came on, the palace began to light up, distant music in the air. Perhaps it was the farewell party…

The next day started out as the one before (except he had the good sense to cry himself to sleep in his own bed this time) but with a big difference: Nadir finally appeared! He was there, at a distance, but still healthy and whole as far as the boy could tell. He watched as Nadir directed the servants as they loaded up the French visitors' accoutrements in preparation for their departure. The boy felt his chest tightening, a hesitant joy causing his heart to thrum with excitement.

That night was the same as the one before - lights, music, another fete. The people crossing back and forth were indistinct shadows, sometimes gaining details when they walked past a lantern. He stayed up all night watching these distant figures, kept one eye on the cluster of trees at the base of his tower, but didn't see what he was looking for.

Around noon the next day, there was a flurry of activity - it seemed the visitors were finally leaving. The boy's heart pounded in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears. There - ! There was Nadir! He was helping the foreigners mount their carriages and litters.

 _Yes - just get on your horse, get in the carriage with your little friend and leave! It's that easy! Please...please…_

Nadir didn't do any of that, couldn't obey the boy's silent commands. As the foreigners picked up and left, waving goodbye to their gracious hosts, Nadir stood in the square and saw them off. His friend poked her head out of the window along with the other girls and began waving her handkerchief. Whether on purpose or by accident, the flimsy thing escaped her grasp and fluttered to the dirt, obscured by the sand as the caravan moved on. Many began to turn away before the last carriage was obscured, but Nadir watched until the carriages were mere specks sinking into the distance. He picked the handkerchief out of the dirt, shook the sand from it, and stuffed it into a back pocket. He paused and looked up, his eyes aiming directly at the window in the tower. The boy screamed with rage.

* * *

Nadir still hadn't come to visit three days later and the boy felt that it was for the best. He was so furious, on fire with anger, that he wasn't sure he wouldn't tear the cretin limb from limb.

 _Imagine being so incredibly idiotic as to stay...Fool! Idiot! Imbecile!_

Twilight was settling into the horizon on the third day, the sky bathed in the soft, rosy hues that melted into a deepening purple, when his door was once again unlocked and opened. His dinner had already been delivered and sat untouched on his table. What now?

The great booby himself stepped through the door with one eunuch in tow, no guards. The boy sat bolt upright, his lips forming a thin, hard line and his hands balling into fists on the tops of his thighs. If Nadir could feel the electric anger that was beaming from the boy's eyes, he made no indication, simply plopped his old bag of bones body in the chair opposite the boy's at his table.

The eunuch sneered at the boy's uncovered face as he carried in a tray with the usual tea and sweets that Nadir always brought with him for their talks. Nadir clucked disapprovingly at the uneaten food still on the boy's dinner plates and seemed far too relaxed for someone who chose to stay in this Hell instead of following someone who made him happy to a much safer place. The boy's breath came hard and fast through the hole in his face. He was practically biting his tongue in half, waiting until the eunuch left.

The eunuch, unable to maneuver the tray onto the table as it was occupied with plates, placed the tea tray on the dresser, turning his back to them. Nadir flicked his eyes to the boy, a strange seriousness glimmered there for only a moment. This odd look was enough to partially derail his anger. What was this?

"It's too bad you missed all of the goodbye parties...The shah really went all out," Nadir said, slouching back in his chair, polishing his pince-nez with slow, lazy movements.

"Is….Is that so…"

The eunuch took the dinner plates and turned to the dresser to swap them with the tea tray.

"Some of those sweets are leftover from the party. We'll be eating them for weeks to come!"

"Good for you."

The eunuch put the tea tray down and turned back to the dresser to fetch the dinner plates. In this brief moment, Nadir switched their tea cups with a swiftness the boy never knew he was even capable of. After this flash of action, he settled back into his calm, relaxed posture. Whatever was happening, it raised the hackles on the back of the boy's neck.

"This is a very high-quality chai, you've never had it so good." Nadir poured the tea into the cups before them, dropping a few sugar cubes in each on. "Try it and tell me what you think."

Out of the corner of his eye, the boy saw the eunuch pause at the door as if waiting for the boy to take a sip. He brought the tea to his lips and swallowed a mouthful or two. Nadir brought his own cup to his lips and took a drink. Seemingly satisfied, the eunuch departed, the door closing behind him.

The moment he did so, Nadir spit his tea back into his cup. He snatched up the boy's cup, swirling mouthfuls of tea around in his mouth before rinsing out into another cup. Properly alarmed, the boy watched and waited for an explanation.

"They coated your cup with a poison," Nadir finally said, smacking the taste of it from his mouth.

"Poison?"

"Things are very grave. You must listen to me carefully now; our time has run out. I thought we would have a few more days, but…" Nadir shrugged, gave a great sigh, and then fixed the boy with a steady, sober gaze. "The shah summoned me to his quarters the other night. He said that you needed to be brought to heel. I agreed - for appearances only - and he began to talk though his thoughts. He said…" Nadir's hands tightened into fists. "...he said he would put out your eyes so that you would be more manageable. But that wasn't enough. From there he said perhaps he should hobble you so that you couldn't run away but still play music. But your hands are lethal, he reasoned. And what if you escaped and built another palace of wonders for someone else? You would find a way to do that even without eyes, after all. Obviously the sultan of India is still quite jealous that the shah has such a capable pet, and there was supposedly a buyer for those blueprints the architect you worked with was caught trying to smuggle out."

The boy sunk back in his chair, the color draining from his already pale face.

"The shah decided that...your usefulness is at an end. That it was safer if you entertained him in another way. And so...he coated this tea cup with a flavorless poison to put you to sleep. He said I was the one who was going to induce you to drink it, to put you at ease. I would be the one to deliver you to him after you were unconscious. Because you trust me."

With a voice that sounded so childish and small to his own ears, the boy asked, "And then what?"

Nadir squeezed his eyes tight for a second, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows. When he opened them again, they were watery with sorrow.

"The shah wanted the honor of separating your head from your body. It would then be preserved in a jar and put on display."

They sat in silence, the weight of this reality settling over them; two tears streamed down the boy's face. After a moment, he jumped to his feet, dashed to his armoire, and began rifling through his clothes, finally coming away with his most formal white tie and tails. He hastily pulled it all on and ran over to his vanity.

"What...what are you doing?" Nadir rose from his seat, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth.

"Well…" The boy peeled away the cloth that covered his wedding present, the mirror, and began powdering his pale face, patting his foundation over the tracks of his tears. "If I am to go, I should like to go looking my best."

"Go? You mean to just go willingly? You'll deliver yourself to the shah, dressed in your finery, lay down and offer him your neck? 'Cut here, sir'?"

"It's for the best." He began to draw in his eyebrow, his hand lacking its usual steady skill.

"The best?!" Nadir's voice began to climb.

The boy gave a great sniffle then tried to compose himself once more. "It's the only way...to keep you safe…" The boy lost his momentum, his voice dying in his throat.

Nadir strode over to him, his face appearing in the mirror at the boy's side, imbued with anger, determination. The boy had never seen him this way before, even on the night the shah had almost cut his tongue.

"My son - !" He said, grasping the boy's shoulders. All of the air left the boy's lungs in one big rush. Nadir turned him around and pulled him to his feet, speaking directly to his malformed face. "Now you are going to listen to me and you are going to obey my every word. Do you understand?" The boy whimpered. "Do you?!" Nadir gave him a firm shake until the boy nodded yes. "How do you think I would go on after your death? I wouldn't be able to live knowing that such a genius was wiped from this world for a petty man's satisfaction. Yes - a genius! You are capable of such greatness, I'm certain you could do anything you wanted if you were determined enough. You could play on the stage of the Palais, you could - could - build a kingdom spun from your own dreams to rival all of Persia! I'm certain you could do all of that and more, but I don't care if you spend the rest of your life playing that fiddle for a herd of cats, there's no way I will allow you to be taken away in such a senseless fashion and die a slave! I'd rather you die fighting for your freedom than be crushed by the madness within these palace walls. No more kneeling, no more tears. No more slavery!"

The boy started to tremble within Nadir's grasp. Those large, calloused hands on his shoulders were practically the only thing holding him upright. Wide-eyed, he listened as Nadir went on.

"You're going to leave her a free man tonight if you do as I say. I have already thought of everything, I just wished we had more time to prepare…" He let him go and the boy stumbled, fumbling to get his shaking legs to support him. "I know you've stolen things away for your own purposes. What do you have of value hidden in here?"

The boy turned from him, opening little secret compartments that he had hidden all over his room and bringing out the treasures that he had squirrelled away over the years.

Nadir picked through the handfuls of baubles, sighing with exasperation. "Of course these would be your prized possessions…" These treasures all meant something to the boy and yet most were worthless - a dried scarab carcas, a colorful tile from the construction site of the palace addition, the decorative paper wrapping for some poppy cake.

Nadir snorted; hidden within the nonsense, the shah's ring made its appearance. "Is this the real one?" He said, holding it before the boy's eyes. He nodded yes. Nadir handed it to him for safekeeping and the boy slipped it on his smallest finger, a perfect fit. As he turned his attention to the pile once more, the lock of the princess' hair fell to the floor, the dark strands lying between them on the floor like a snake. Nadir kicked it away.

"We don't have time to pick through these things. Go put on your Persian clothes, the simple ones, and try to pack a few clothes that wouldn't look out of place once you leave. I have an idea." Nadir abandoned the tiny treasures and began pulling out the drawers where the boy kept his masks.

Digging through his clothes with shaking hands, the boy did as he was told but his heart was at war with itself. He was terrified of the world beyond, of a life without comfortable parameters that he understood, even those that demanded his death, and yet...perhaps, if the old man's mad scheme worked, they both could escape and Nadir would be free.

"Hey -!" He glanced up from his task and saw that Nadir was prying the jewels from his more elaborate masks with a small knife. "That's a work of art -!"

"Get over it, you baby!" Nadir dug his dagger under a particularly large emerald, working it free. "This is how you're going to pay your way until you can make it on your own." He scooped them into a small cloth pouch as he worked.

The boy finished selecting a few outfits and came back to Nadir, expecting more guidance. Nadir snatched the pile of clothes from him and pressed a few of his most realistic masks into his hands.

"You are a true child of the palace!" He said, tossing a few of the finer items of clothing to the side. "You have such a taste for luxury. Better wean yourself from that, at least for the time being. I won't pretend things going forward will be easy."

They worked quickly, Nadir giving orders and assembling a small but well-stocked satchel of supplies in preparation for this dangerous flight. Nadir moved as if he had already thought most of this through and the boy struggled to keep up with him. When he finished, the boy stood before him, dressed in plain Persian clothing, a dark cloak around his shoulders. Nadir looked him over and returned to the satchel again and again until he was satisfied with its contents.

"Alright. Do you have a few weapons on you? A few knives at the least?" The boy nodded. "Good. And the Punjab lasso?"

"Always."

"Alright. Get it out now." The boy pulled it from his pocket, wrapping it around his knuckles. "I know you know how to get out of the tower. Are you confident you can make it past the outer wall without being seen?"

"I...I think so."

"How long do you think it would take you?"

"Minutes...It's late, it's dark...We could be on a horse and past the foothills before they knew we were gone."

"That's the thing…" Nadir took a deep breath. "I can't go with you."

"What? You have to-! You _must_ \- !"

"No. I would slow you down and if we were both caught...there is no telling what horrors we both would suffer. I can't go with you, it's not part of the plan."

"The plan!?" The boy shouted, waving his arms. "Make a new plan!"

"I'm sorry but this is how it has to be...I've thought of every angle; you'll see that this is truly the best way."

"But - but - ! They'll hurt me...they'll hurt me if I leave alone...All of them, all of the people out there in the world! Don't you remember what it was like when you found me? The crowds, they hated me...The whole world hates me…"

"Don't you think I know what I'm sending you out into?" Nadir said. "I know your life won't be easy beyond these walls but you will be free, you will be your own person. I know there are those who will attack you for what they perceive is a flaw, but you must keep on until you find your place in the world. You will meet someone, maybe many others - I promise you - that will see you just as I see you, just as you are, a human being. But - and you must make an oath to me! - that you won't hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary. No more killing unless your very life is in danger. There is only one evil creature on this earth who deserves to have her throat slit by you and you will swear to me right now that you will never cross paths with her. Swear it!"

Reluctantly, the boy nodded.

"Now…" Nadir locked eyes with him. "I heard about what you did with the architect. This man was unconscious for a long enough amount of time that he almost escaped. I know you understand anatomy very well, and you're not one to make mistakes…"

Tears leapt to the rims of the boy's eyes.

"Well?"

The tears spilled over, pouring down his cheeks. "Don't...don't ask this of me," he whispered.

"This is what we will do. You will render me unconscious. You will escape. The shah will wonder where I am, what is the delay. He will send guards to find me. I will say that you detected the poison in your tea, flew into a rage, and fled into the night. This is the way we will take back our own lives."

"What if the shah - "

"That is no concern of yours. I am used to maneuvering in court; I'll be fine, I promise."

"I can't!" The boy sobbed, balling his fists and plugging them into his eyes. "You can't ask this of me!"

Nadir took him again by the shoulders. "You have to be a man now; I can't protect you any longer. You have to win your own life." He let the boy cry a bit more, waiting until his sobs ran out. "Go get yourself ready. Once you do this last task, you'll have to leave at once."

His cries sputtered out but his thin frame was still shaking as he placed his wig on his head and secured his satchel. Nadir waited, standing there as patiently as a martyr waiting to die. The boy faced him once more, terrified, vulnerable.

"My boy!" Nadir gathered him up in his arms and embraced him, squeezing him tight. The boy's trembling hands came to Nadir's broad back and hesitantly gave him a light pat; affection was still a foreign action for him to perform.

Nadir pulled back, his hands still on his shoulders. His eyes were filled with tears for the first time this difficult night, a small sad smile on his lips. "My advice is to go to Paris, look for my friend at the Palais Garnier. I told her I might send you to her. And as soon as I am able to, I'll make my way there. In Paris, we will be reunited, Allah willing."

The boy swallowed down a lump in his throat and nodded.

"I won't say goodbye tonight. This won't be forever. This is only...a temporary situation." With his kind eyes, soft smile, and gentle voice, it was difficult to tell if Nadir was lying.

"...not goodbye…" The boy's voice was faint, faltering.

"That's right. Now let's get through this next part. Are you ready?"

The boy squeezed the Punjab lasso in his hand.

"Even if I fight you out of natural instinct, you must focus. Go ahead now."

The boy took his stance and swirled the Punjab lasso back and forth, gathering momentum, trying to muster the courage to do something that went against every desire in every fiber of his soul. Nadir lifted his chin a little to give him a clear target but didn't close his eyes. With a cry, the boy whipped the lasso through the air.

"Wait!" Nadir exclaimed, bringing his hand to the level of his eyes with an incredible swiftness. The lasso swirled uselessly around the back of his neck and across his forearm.

The boy dropped to his knees, sobbing. "I won't be able to do it again! I can't!"

"Yes, yes you can, but there's one last thing - " With shaking hands, Nadir patted his pockets, frantically searching for something. From his waistcoat, he extracted the object he was looking for. He pulled the boy to his feet and extended his hand. Inside of his palm was the pocket watch, the same one he had tried to give the boy so long ago. It was a little joke between them that the boy would always find clever ways to steal it and replace it over the years, but he never kept it.

"Here you are," Nadir said, pressing it into the boy's hands. "Keep it this time and maybe you'll remember the old daroga of the Mazenderan."

The boy, half-wilted, face shining with tears, swallowed down another whimper and closed his hand around the treasured item. Just as it had done so many times before in his grasp, it instantly disappeared. Nadir patted him on the shoulder and took his position once more.

Terror, fear, sorrow, and grief melted away with the boy's heart, rapidly replaced with grim acceptance and the strong survival instinct that had always served him well. He slowed his breathing, steadied his mind; if he wasn't careful, he could go too far. He must be precise.

When facing a foe, they never saw the Punjab lasso coming unless he wanted them to. He extended this courtesy to Nadir, casting it so swiftly there was only a soft whistle and it was around his neck. The boy bore down, concentrating on doing this unkind kindness, keeping the lasso's pressure steady. Nadir struggled, clawed at his neck out of instinct. His face contorted in pain, his eyes rolling back, gasping for breath. The boy pressed a knee into his chest to keep him stable and waited until unconsciousness took him.

Finally, the moment came - Nadir went slack, his head dropping to the ground. The boy immediately extracted the deadly instrument and pocketed it once more. There were only a few moments to spare; time was quickly running out but the boy was compelled to kneel next to Nadir, gazing down at his now-serene face. He was still breathing, if faintly; the boy had been successful in that at least. He touched the tips of his fingers to Nadir's forehead. There were words in his throat and yet he lacked the language to express them. There was a sensation in his heart but he didn't understand it. There was no more time to explore what anything meant; he had only one directive and that was to survive.

He rose to his feet and took one last glance around his apartment, the gilded cage that he had spent most of his life in. He slipped on his most realistic mask, one made of leather, and wrapped his cloak around him. He went to one of his windows and dislodged the frame - something he had done years before to hide his comings and goings. He had climbed down the tower before and he was confident he could do it just as quickly, even encumbered with the satchel.

He approached the window and then turned back. Although it wasn't essential, and although it represented so many terrible things, he felt compelled to take the mirror. He bundled it in one of his shirts and stuffed it into his satchel where it fit poorly and made the bag more bulky. No matter; it was going with him. He then considered his violin; what was life without music? It would also be cumbersome, take up room, make his flight more difficult but...he simply wouldn't do without it. He strapped it to his bag and took up his position again.

As he clambered out and began to climb down, he fixed his eyes on Nadir until he was below the window and couldn't see inside anymore. From there, it was shockingly easy for him to stick to the shadows, slip into the stables, ride out at an easy pace so as not to attract attention and then spur his horse on until they were out into the wide, wild world.

Nadir's watch sat heavy in the boy's pocket. He slipped a hand around it from time to time, feeling it ticking away within his palm. He would spend the rest of his life searching for those kind, jade green eyes in every crowd and in every city all around the world and he would never see them again for the rest of his life .


End file.
